


Recovery

by snowbryneich



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbryneich/pseuds/snowbryneich
Summary: The Black Pearl gets to Port Royal when Elizabeth and Will are fifteen and the kidnapping goes much worse. Ruined by Pirates - James offers to restore Elizabeth's reputation. Now Complete!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old lj fic I'm reposting because I've decided to finish it.

There had been a pall cast over the Governor’s household and it was noticeable as Captain Norrington waited in the entrance hall. Even the servants seemed affected and James’ guilt was like a palpable weight in his stomach, a constant presence that he was learning to live with. The sight of Governor Swann, who looked as if he had aged ten years however only increased it.   
  
“How is she?” he asked against all propriety, it was not his business. But James had been there when they recovered Elizabeth from the Black Pearl. The memory fuelled nightmares and a black hatred for pirates beyond anything in his previous experience.   
  
“Unchanged.” The Governor said, tight lipped and drawn. “Physically, she is healing.but her mental state remains unchanged.” The helplessness in the Governor’s voice was tangible and there was a pause. “Tell me what of the boy?” he said, “she will ask after him you know.”  
  
James Norrington did know. “Recovering from his injuries, but much the same . . .this tale of undead pirates . . ." he shook his head, something they appeared to have come with together to cope with what had happened to them. It had been odd though, the ship deserted when they'd arrived. Will taken ashore and Elizabeth left locked in a cabin alone. He'd been the one to find her, in the state they'd left her in.   
  
"I’ve seen that Mr. Brown allows him time. He blames himself.” James blamed him as well. It was, he knew, small minded of him to do so, the boy was fifteen years old and if he should not have been wading on the seashore with Elizabeth, he could hardly have predicted the outcome should be kidnap by pirates. Nor was James foolish enough to think the venture had been Master Turner’s notion. But he should have said no to Elizabeth and all this would never have happened. “He has written her a missive of apology,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the laboriously written note. “I told him it would be to your discretion as to whether she received it.” He paused, Governor Swann would likely want no more contact between the pair, “I thought it might be a comfort to her to read it.” This then was his explanation of why he had bothered to deliver the thing.   
  
There was hesitation and the Governor took it, “I suppose it might,” he handed it to a maid and gestured James into his study. Awkwardly James followed unsure of how to broach the subject he had come here to discuss.   
  
“The hangings,” he said to begin. “There is no need for delay of course.” The men of the black pearl were pirates all - the sentence was obvious and could be immediate. The topic however, “if it would benefit her to attend delays could be arranged.” In ordinary circumstances the suggestion that a injured fifteen year old girl should attend the hangings of those who had assaulted her was of course unthinkable but Elizabeth. . . James thought perhaps the closure could be of help to her.   
  
Swann shuddered, “no,” he said decisively. “No, word of it will have to do, she’s not well enough, I don’t know that she will be for some time.” James nodded, his own thoughts on the matter perhaps did not agree but he would not argue with the Governor, it was not his place.   
  
“I’ll make arrangements and send word when it’s done, and the other matter is complete also.” Pardoning Jack Sparrow had galled him but it had been a price worth paying in the end. Though if Sparrow could have worked quicker . . . it was too late for that now. “If there is any other way I can assist,” there was not, he knew that, yet he had to offer.   
  
“No,” said Governor Swann his tone stiff, his gaze not on James but out of the window towards the coast. “No assistance is required, Captain, not unless you can turn back time, keep my daughter safe,” there was a twist in his voice, “find some future for her now she is ruined,” he shook his head, “Even in England I could not find her a husband. Not after this.”   
  
James started, he had been so concerned for her he had not so much considered her future. At least not since the incident, though he had admitted to himself on his previous return to Port Royal, that Elizabeth had grown up. She had been due to début soon and he had thought he might approach her father. By the time Elizabeth had had her season, he had hoped he might be closer to securing a promotion, a salary that could support a family, a rank that might make him closer to her own. But now none of that mattered but that Elizabeth should suffer for what was in a sense his failure was not acceptable. And she no doubt would suffer, he'd been foolish not to think on it, no doubt the rumours were already rife.   
  
“I cannot change the past,” he said obvious and hesitant. “Would that I could,” he paused, it was the wrong time to bring it up he knew that, and yet if he could ease the Governor’s worries in any way. If could protect Elizabeth in some small way. “It is not what you would have wanted for her,” he stated obviously inwardly cursing his own foolishness, “but if a future as a Captain’s wife could acquire her consent, and yours, I should be glad to offer it.”   
  
He felt very small under Weatherby Swann’s gaze just then, and yet did not withdraw the offer. “I would want her married as soon as possible,” came the most unexpected reply. James had rather though a long engagement would suit Elizabeth better, allow her a chance to put this behind her and to perhaps have the limited season available to an engaged woman. She was still of course so young. He's brought back by more words from his future father in law. “I would, of course, expect you to accept any consequences of…” The Governor trailed off unable to phrase the words, to further describe the assault upon his daughter.   
  
It took a moment for James to take his meaning. He nodded stiffly. That would explain the need for haste. If the attack had left Elizabeth with child, then that child would need a father and Elizabeth would need support through such an event let alone young motherhood. “As soon as possible, with her consent, when she recovers.” The Elizabeth he had brought back from the Black Pearl had not had the wherewithal to consent to a dance let alone a marriage.   
  
He had no sooner thought this of her, when with a burst and a crash Elizabeth slammed through the door of her father's study helter skelter. She was wild eyed and panicked and her honey blonde curls were tangled and rumpled. He was shocked to note before he averted his eyes that she still wore the naval issue night shirt that had been given her once he had carried her about the Dauntless. The dressing gown she wore over it was open and the shirt fell only to her knees and gaped at the collar. He had seen once again the bruises on her neck and delicate flesh that haunted his nightmares. They were no longer dark and vivid but turning yellow and green and yet still very distinctly the shapes of hands and fingertips, the mark the pirates had left upon her. He felt sick, to have civilised Port Royal and yet allowed this to happen. Her split lip was almost healed but a bruise on her cheek seemed not to have faded at all. There were other marks as well, hidden by the night shirt but he knew of them, he could see them in his minds eye.  
  
"Father," Elizabeth exclaimed, not so much as noticing him. "You must let me see Will at once. He thinks this is his fault and it was not at all." Governor Swann looked very much like he wanted to disagree quite strongly with this sentiment and not wanting to be present for an argument, (for knowing Elizabeth there surely would be one,) James interjected.   
  
"It's no-one's fault, no-one but the pirates themselves and they are all to hang." Elizabeth looked at him as if seeing him for the very first time and blushed, then pulled her dressing gown closed. He had seen more of her nakedness on the Pearl when they had retrieved her. She had clung to his familiarity while he wrapped her in his coat before he had ensconced her in his cabin and found her the night shirt she still wore. She must remember that he'd seen and feel shamed and he felt again the burden of guilt.  
  
"When?" she said at once, a strange light in her eyes and James' looked helplessly to the Governor.   
  
"Elizabeth, your attendance is out of the question. You aren't well." her father told her at once and immediately Elizabeth turned to the Captain. But before she could request his aid, as she might have done when being particularly stubborn in the past, she instead suddenly withdrew into herself. "Will is not to blame himself," she said again quietly.   
  
"Perhaps you would wish to return his note," James suggested, "write him something to that affect." He had overstepped of course, but the Governors seemed not to notice, caught up in relief, in plans for Elizabeth.   
  
"Yes, yes," he said, "perhaps then you might feel well enough to dress? And join the Captain and myself for tea." Elizabeth fled the study without another word.  
  
When she appeared quite some time later, she did not look overly neater if she was somewhat more covered, the dress she wore was dark and old and looked to be too tight on her. From it's cut it was a child's dress not a woman's and despite the height of the neck line, still those bruises showed. She had not touched her hair and bare feet peeped out from under the hem. Her father said nothing to this haphazard appearance and even looked relieved. James understood that this was the first time she must have been out of bed. Especially if she was wearing  _his_  nightshirt. She must have been abed since he brought her home. In one hand she clutched a sealed note, she had obviously been more occupied in writing to Master Turner than caring about what to wear.   
  
She sat quietly with them and fidgeted. She ignored the tea and the biscuits and the small neatly cut sandwiches. James had no appetite yet he ate politely and forced down a cup of tea as they sat in awkward silence. Elizabeth gazed at her lap and her cheeks were flush and James felt he was very much making her uncomfortable. He was about to make an excuse to leave - to give her peace. No doubt she wanted her father - not the attention of the man who had failed in his duty to keep Port Royal safe.

  
Therefore he was dismayed then when the Governor, who understandably wanted no time to be wasted, pushed the matter, giving the Captain a meaningful look. "Elizabeth, why don't you take some air, Captain Norrington will escort you I'm sure." James had agreed to the haste so there was no opportunity to refuse. He could only be grateful that Elizabeth did seem lucid again, so he nodded and stood and offered her a arm. She did not take it merely looked at him wide eyed and they made their way to the garden's in silence. He wanted to ask - did she not want to wear shoes but he did not and once outside she wandered ahead of him finding a shaded spot and sitting herself on a bench pushing her bare feet into the dewy grass and curling up her toes.   
  
He had no idea what to say, he had thought to have years to before this was anything more than a distant possibility. Not to spring himself on a traumatised girl who had not so much as been presented to society and for a moment he resented Weatherby Swann, despite his good intentions. In the end he was still formulating his approach when Elizabeth spoke first quite startling him.   
  
"I want to attend the hangings," she told him directly, her voice flat and stripped, perhaps deliberately, of emotion.   
  
"I understand," he told her after a long pause, she'd made it quite clear earlier "truly I do understand, but the decision remains your father's." She looked annoyed and for a moment he felt relieved, annoyance at him foolishly enough was preferable to the fragile damaged expressions that ghosted across her countenance. Of course having annoyed her was perhaps the one thing that could make the circumstances for a proposal less favourable and he decided to plough on anyway. He had determined he would ask for her hand and so he would do so.   
  
"Miss Swann . . . Elizabeth," he swallowed, "your father is quite concerned about your future."   
  
"No-one will marry me," she said at once, matter of factly, "I heard the maids talking but I already knew I was ruined." The other worry she did not mention but that may be some hint of properness. Or it may not have occurred to her that she might be left with a more permanent reminder of the attack and he would not be the one to put the thought in her head.   
  
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away further. Foolish of him. "Elizabeth," he began, "you are very young and what happened to you it was unspeakable." He swallowed, "You are becoming a fine woman, Elizabeth, you should have been able to make a fine match in some years time. That you cannot . . ." He trailed off. "If it would suit however I can offer, wife of a mere Captain, it is less than you deserve I am aware. But I would marry you, Elizabeth, if you would have me. "   
  
She looked startled and shied away and for a moment he cursed himself, too soon, too much, too unexpected.   
  
"Why on earth would you want to marry me?" she asked looking genuinely bewildered.   
  
"Have we not always been friends?" he asked gently, he could not say that he had considered courting her, she was not out, and that seemed ridiculous considered he was proposing. But the last thing she needed now was the pressure of his interest. "I know that you are very young and that you have been hurt. Whatever time you needed I would give you, whatever you needed I would provide . . ." His arguments are cast aside by that phrasing.   
  
"What I need," she said, "is to attend those hangings," her face was lit suddenly with fury and he knew at once that it would be better for her to attend. To have closure, to know that the men who harmed her were dead and to see it for herself. She stood and for a moment her entire frame seemed filled with nervous energy. "You have to make Father see that," she told him determined. "That's what I need, then I'll marry you." With that she pushed the letter for Will into his hand, and ran for the house and though he would like to follow he could not push her more than he had.  
  
After a suitable pause he was heading in just as Governor Swann stepped out looking vexed, "I take it that it did not go well." he said. There was a distinct implication that this was the Captain's fault.   
  
"Ah no," he said, "it could have went better," he hesitated, "her acceptance is conditional."   
  
"Conditional," said the Governor, his ruffled feathers smoothed, "I'm sure we can accommodate her, whatever she wants." He hesitated, for all the upset, this was  _Elizabeth_  after all, "what did she want?"   
  
"To attend the hangings," James said shortly getting directly to the point.   
  
"That's all?" said Swann, his surprise evident. "Well I suppose delays must be arranged then." The Governor seemed suddenly much more his usual self though still much much older. "I suppose it would hardly be my place to forbid Mrs. Norrington from attending."   
  
An unsubtle way of informing the Captain that this marriage would be taking place before any hangings, but the rest was simple formalities. James struggled with the Governor over details, it was not his intent to profit from this marriage but nor would Swann have his daughter living in anything but the manner she had grown up accustomed and the resolution was reached that a town house would be purchased in the governor's own name that the young couple could live in. He did first suggest in her name but that was no different to deeding it to James. At least Weatherby intended to break it to his daughter himself that she would be wed before any hangings took place.  
  
James left shortly, he had arrangements to make for longer term jailing, and to call at chapel to arrange for banns to be read. Despite these tasks the first thing he did was deliver Elizabeth's letter to young Master Turner, her missive much outweighed the one she had received and he wondered at it's contents.   
  
The time passes swiftly and James' involvement in arrangements was minimal. It was less than a month later that he stood up, in dress uniform at the front of the chapel and spoke his vows to Elizabeth. The wedding was small and scarcely attended and the party after to be the same. Most of Port Royal would not turn out for the wedding of a ' _ruined_ ' girl, Governor's daughter or not. His side of the church was far fuller, men from the fort turning out to support their captain. Elizabeth spoke more quietly at church than he had ever heard her and the burden of guilt increased. It was obviously too soon for her and he tried his best to be reassuring. She trembled when he pressed his lips to hers for the proper and delicate kiss that sealed their union. She was still two months shy of her sixteenth birthday and somehow looked younger now than she had before the incident, she'd had lost weight and carried herself differently. It grieved him to see it, as expected as it might be after such trauma.   
  
He wanted to do anything, say anything, that might reassure her and was gratified beyond belief when during the dinner served, she reached under the table and grasped his hand. She held on so hard that it actually hurt and he smiled at her and she tried shakily to return it. She had smiled at him that way on the Black Pearl, when he had rescued her, though then blood had trickled from her split lip and he knew suddenly that it was a smile of relief. Though she might understandably be nervous and frightened it did not follow that she was frightened of him and if he were simply patient, she might find some recovery.   
  
Of course it being a wedding party even a quiet one eventually the music struck up and they did not lead the dancing. Elizabeth was staring at her untouched plate, clinging to his hand and very occasionally sipping her wine as if for lack of anything else to do. The father of the bride gave the new couple several pointed looks and eventually James turned to his new wife. "Elizabeth?" he said questioning, she stared harder at the plate and there was a silence and finally she answered sounding as if it was hard to get the words out.

 

"I don't want to." she whispered, her voice so quiet he almost missed the words.  
  
"Then you shan't have to," he promised immediately and he ignored the looks of his father in law and continued on to be unimaginably rude by not dancing with anyone else either. He did not leave Elizabeth's side and though he did not once relax his returned grip on her hand, he could hardly imagine himself to be a comfort. She looked visibly more uncomfortable as time went on, through it all the one solace was the hold she had on his hand. If she had to cling to something it was as well it should be him. As small as the party was, the few officer's wives that Port Royal had all made the effort to talk to her. James could not help but think such sensible women might prove better company for her, than the debutantes who had been her friends, no matter what society thought.   
  
Eventually though they were in a carriage bound for the house that would be home. Neither of them spoke and Elizabeth released his hand to sit as far away from him on the seat as she could manage and peer out of the window into the night air. In their new home, which was grand in design but sparse and plainly furnished, James told her that he had savings put aside for decorating and that he thought that he might leave it to her. She shrugged at that. He obviously would not insist.

 

He led her upstairs and was grateful to see her examining the house with interest. Though it could have been simply that she did not wish to look at him. Though the servants here did not usually spend the night, he had arranged for a maid to stay late to help Elizabeth undress, her gown, intended for her début not her wedding, was fancy and she would have struggled on her own. Nor could he offer to help. It did occur to him to simply let her retire on her own but things were unspoken between them and he would not have her lie awake waiting and wondering over her fate.   
  
He removed his wig and jacket and waist coat and then wondered if that was a mistake, perhaps he should have stayed formal. He had a drink of brandy and made his way back to Elizabeth's room. He knocked gently to warn her before he entered. The maid had departed and Elizabeth sat in a chair her knees pulled up to her chin, she was dressed in a flowing white night dress and though she was no longer bruised, he could see them in his minds eye. She seemed to shudder then stood and stepped towards him as if stealing herself for something.   
  
He  _had_  to correct her, "I came to bid you good night," he said all in a rush, "my room is just down the hall should you need anything." There was a long pause where she seemed not to understand, then she visibly relaxed. She crept closer and pressed the swiftest brush of a kiss to his cheek before sitting herself on the bed. He nodded and turned to go, but then she spoke.  
  
Her voice was quiet still and she seemed to be almost addressing herself at first. "I should be a proper wife at least once," she said. "Estrella said so." The maid he realised, "for then if. . .  _if_ ," she could not state it outright it would seem but then she forced herself to it, " if there is a child. I would not know and that would be _better_ ," She was obviously quoting the maid there for she suddenly scoffed and sounded almost for a moment like her old self. "How can not knowing be  _better!_ " She hugged herself, "but I don't want to," she said.   
  
"I would never insist on it," he told her seriously, and she looked at him, he could not read that look, contempt for men in general or him specifically. Or tonight and societies expectations for women. There were so many options.  
  
"It doesn't matter anyway," she said finally. "My courses are three days late." Her voice twisted and the long silence grew, he had no words of comfort for this, and he stood stock still. He had no words at all. "Elizabeth. . ." he managed finally.   
  
"I'm tired now," she interrupted clambering into the covers. It was clearly a dismissal and he had no option but to take it, despite wanting to comfort her, to help her in some way. Instead he did the only thing he could he rearranged her blankets neatly tucking her in, smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. On his return to his own room, he found sleep very hard to come by indeed.  
  
In the end, he would be glad of that, it was only because he lay awake that he heard her. He did not wake easily and the soft shriek was not after all comparatively loud. When he reached her side, the noise had become a moan, she was not properly awake and he reached for her to jolt her from her nightmare.   
  
That was a mistake, the instant he touched her, no more than a brief touch on the arm, the moan became a shriek a proper one and she sat bolt upright to flail against him, beating her fists against his chest, tears in her eyes.  
  
He let her do it, murmuring her name and assurances that he would never hurt her, he did not think she heard any of it and her assault on him only ceased when she twisted away from him to fling herself from the bed. She fled the room and he heard the sound of retching as she vomited.   
  
He wanted to go after her and yet held back, he fetched her a drink of water instead. She ignored it when she came back, and sat on the bed and then very hesitantly took it. "I have nightmares," she said matter of factly.   
  
"Yes, I should have thought," he said seriously. "Is there anything I can do . . ." She  _glared_  at him. "I suppose not," he said.   
  
"You shouldn't have married me," she told him. "I'm not ruined, I'm  _ruined_ " she looked down, "I hate it," she said.  
  
He had no idea what she hated exactly, the act itself? the talk? the worrying notion of being left with a child from it, that had turned from a distant terrible notion to a horrifying very real possibility.   
  
"You are not ruined," he said finally, "truly not, what happened to you was a terrible thing, but you are who you always were, time heals all wounds and you shall have all the time you need Elizabeth." One slender hand ghosted along her flat stomach as if she did not have the words for the worry. Neither did he, "whatever happens, I shall take care of you," he said. "Both of you if that is the case, the child would not be to blame." The look she gave him seemed to indicate his understanding of this matter was non-existent and when wordlessly she crawled back into the covers, he made to leave but she suddenly reached out and grasped his hand.   
  
So James Norrington spent the remainder of his wedding night lying atop the covers unable to sleep watching his young wife drift in and out of nightmares all the while clutching tightly to his hand. It was a mere fortnight until the scheduled hangings and James found himself counting the minutes until the men who had done this received their deserved justice.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married life has a shaky start for the Norringtons.

As he had been granted a months leave for his wedding, James could have slept late the next day, especially given he had not slept the night before. But when morning came and light flooded Elizabeth’s room he disentangled his hand, rose and went to dress for the day. She had given a soft protest and pulled the coverlet over her head as the room lightened, in a manner much more reminiscent of Elizabeth when cross, and that at least lightened his spirits.  
  
He allowed her to sleep in, given her disturbed night, though he was startled by how late she did sleep. When she wandered downstairs, her dress was at least fit, though once again she was barefoot. Elizabeth seemed somewhat dismayed to be ushered into the dining room.   
  
"Haven't you eaten?" she asked.   
  
"I was waiting for you," he advised. It soon became clear this was pointless as he watched her push the food round the plate. He observed concerned, no wonder she was so thin.   
  
She caught his gaze and ate a bite of egg but grimaced as she did so. She pushed the plate away, "my stomach hurts."  
  
He thought on her vomiting in the night, on the possibility of her being afflicted with the tender digestion of a mother-to-be, and worryingly on the idea of her fading away before him. "Perhaps I can convince the cook to make something less trying for the digestion?" he asked. Subsequently one hour later, when Elizabeth had consumed the better part of a bowl of oaten porridge and a single slice of dry toast, James felt a foolish sense of triumph.

  
  
She excused herself and James found himself at a loss for what to do next. As he worked on the paperwork he had brought home with him, and he caught glimpses of her wandering the house throughout the afternoon. By evening, this ceased and he went in search of her, He found Elizabeth in the library, asleep on the desk, surrounded by books pulled from the shelves and discarded. She was asleep on a half written note addressed to Will Turner, a smudge of ink on her pale cheek. Beside that lay a sheet of practised signatures, ‘Elizabeth Norrington’ written out again and again. That touched him slightly. He repeated her name to wake her, not wishing to startle her with his touch. She sat up and yawned before looking stubborn and gathering her note to herself as if he might have read it. "I'm going to write to Will," she said.  
  
"I have no intention of limiting your correspondence," he informed her. Though he could of. It was not proper she write to the boy but he did not have it in her to deny her anything that gave her comfort. "Come," he said, "lets go and tell Cook what you want for dinner." He offered her his arm and after a moment she took it, the letter to her friend still firmly grasped in her free hand.  
  
Her nausea seemed to persist, but in allowing her to choose her own meals, it seemed to bother her less, and he hoped this would halt the weight loss that had plagued her. She could hardly spare it. They established a routine of sorts quickly - bidding each other goodnight and retiring to their separate rooms after which he would then join her when woken by her nightmares. To watch her as she slept or lay awake, either possibility as likely as the other. James found himself as liable to fall asleep about the house as she was, and it gave him concern for when his leave was over.

  
  
He offered to take her into town, to go shopping, or to the docks to see the ships or even riding. Nothing seemed to interest her, save books. The few engaging conversations they had revolved around the topic of books and one evening after a nightmare so bad she'd actually clung to him sobbing, he fetched a volume from his modest library, lit the lamp and read to her until finally she slept.  
  
It was the day after that, he suggested she invite Mr. Turner for tea and she seemed her old self for a brief moment, and then suddenly an entirely new Elizabeth as his suggestion caused her to embrace him impulsively and brush her lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. Then she was off to pen an invite straight away, leaving him somewhat surprised but strangely hopeful.  
  
Of course, it was an invite to have tea with the new couple, not just Elizabeth. Nothing else would be proper and perhaps it was that which caused Will Turner to delay his response for two whole days, while Elizabeth worried. Or perhaps her notes had not alleviated the blame Master Turner had taken upon himself in the matter of Elizabeth's abuse. Either way, James only resented the blacksmith's apprentice more as she fretted herself even worse while wondering if he would accept the invitation. But he did and so James would suffer his presence if it would lighten Elizabeth's spirits, as the prospect of it seemed to.

  
  
It was not to be however; the visit could only be described as an unmitigated disaster. There was an awkward silence on arrival, before they bickered over forms of address. James was pleased to see Will was as persistent with Mrs. Norrington as he had once been with Miss. Swann. Despite the fact that he refused so much as to meet James' eye, every now and then, James would catch Turner shooting him a look filled with surprising venom before the boy managed to hide it or look away.   
  
Elizabeth was visibly put out by his refusal to use her given name, and somehow that was a relief to James as well. Annoyance was an improvement on the vacant and vaguely traumatised expression, she wore much of the time. Annoyance, anger, or even childish pouting was preferable.   
  
James watched as Elizabeth brushed Will’s arm once when they both reached for a biscuit they snatched their arms back, recoiling from each other. It caused one or the other knocked over the teapot in their haste. James called for a maid to deal with the scalding spilled liquid and sent them both to the garden. Like they were children, he thought, feeling vaguely guilty. But the fact remained that perhaps they should be children but they weren't. Not since they had encountered the pirates that he should have shielded them from.

  
  
He watched their awkward, stilted conversation from the window. He could hear only fragments, words on the breeze, 'medallion’, ‘my father’, ‘moonlight’, ‘my fault’. Neither of them was even looking at the other, though Will persisted in looking back at James, disgusted. It occurred to him that Will likely knew more of what happened to Elizabeth than he did, if not all. How infuriating. Though perhaps knowing would be worse - he could not undo it as much as he wanted to. He turned back to them to see Elizabeth looking slightly lost as Will made his excuses.  
  
"Captain Norrington." Will said to him. "Good day," before bowing in farewell and heading rapidly for the house. James had missed something in his reverie and Elizabeth sat stiffly until the sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard clearly echoing. Then she picked up her skirts and ran for the house herself. James struggled to give her space, but could not help himself. After only a moment he followed her in and found her in her room. She was lying face down on the bed; she was not crying, but her eyes glimmered with unshed tears.   
  
"I won't let them take Will away," she said dully. "He's my friend. They can't change that." Without even reflecting on the inappropriateness of a friendship between a married woman and a single man, James could see that tthey  _had_  changed it. But before he could think of anything to say to her comment, she continued. "I remember every time I see him," her voice had dropped to a whisper. "They made him watch."  
  
James felt sick; it was becoming a familiar sensation. He could curse Will Turner all over again, but at the same time still feel a scrap of sympathy for him.   
  
"He fought them," Elizabeth told him, "and then he was knocked out." This was as much as she'd said about the incident since it happened. "It seemed a good idea," she said. “If he could fight them then so could I but it was different for him.”  
  
Unthinking, James brushed one finger along her hairline, remembering the bruise that had been there, the bruises on her body he understood. He wished her didn’t but the bruise there, on her cheek, her split lip? Not mindless violence perhaps, he should have known she had struggled. “You had quite the blow to the head yourself,” he commented, asking the question indirectly. It seemed cruel somehow and yet not if they had knocked her out - she would have experienced less of it. Elizabeth nodded hesitantly and turned away again as he rubbed one hand gently over her back. It was only later, after he'd resorted to giving her a measure of whisky and persuading her to go to bed early that he realised; that had been the first time in their brief marriage she had not flinched away from a touch more substantive than a hand hold not initiated by herself.

  
Of course he had no idea if it meant anything or if she was merely distracted. Later that night he wondered if the whisky had been a mistake, when trying to rouse her (from a particularly bad nightmare,) proved difficult, but surely not?. It had been a single measure only. He began to doubt that it did mean anything, when finally she woke; she did so by spitting words at him vehemently.   
  
"Don't look at me!" Then she seemed startled as if expecting someone else. He knew who now. She lay and shivered, and James did not dare get closer to her, for fear of making things worse.   
  
"Elizabeth," he said urgently. "It's alright. You are safe." She reached for his hand and he held tight to hers. She was trembling again. "Do you wish to talk about it?" Perhaps it would help to get it out. "The nightmare at least?"  
  
"No," she said flatly, and she sounded more annoyed than anything. "You never even come to me until after they've started anyway, and then it's too late." He absorbed that criticism, feeling just a little stunned. It was true she never had nightmares once he was here. He knew because he slept little, if at all, after her sleep disturbances woke him. He just watched her, and he'd never thought that his presence earlier might help. She scrubbed at her face with one hand and he noticed she was wearing that nightshirt again.  _His nightshirt._  She must have brought it with her from the Governor's household.   
  
"I thought they simply passed," he said, brushing one finger over the wristband of the cuff.  
  
She lifted her head for a moment and he wished, as he had on many occasions since they married, that he knew what she was thinking. "No," she said almost reluctantly, "It's you. You make me feel safe." He had no words for that, and as heartening as such a statement was, it silenced him. "I prayed for you to find us," she whispered, "and then you did." He moved closer, not touching her and stared at her in the darkness. There was a lamp lit, but it was flickering. He could just make out the dark pools of her eyes and then the oil ran out and the darkness was complete. He threaded his fingers with hers.   
  
"Would that it have been sooner," he said. There is no response, and shortly after her breathing evened out and he knew she was asleep. He took her at her word that the nightmares would not return with him there and allowed himself to sleep. 

  
  
When he awoke, chilled on top of the covers, she was awake and staring at him fascinated. "You snore," she announced, "I had to keep jabbing you to make you stop." She did not seem bothered by this, more intrigued.   
  
"I shall endeavour to control it," he said though he'd never been told he snored before. Elizabeth slid out of bed and pulled a night robe over the sleeping shirt. She seemed uncertain and was trying to hide it. He suspected that she was trying very hard to pretend this was a normal way for a married couple to behave.   
  
"I need to ask your opinion on something," she said seriously. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out two gowns. "Which is nicer?" They both seemed lovely to him though he wondered where they had come from - likely her father who had not so much as visited since they wed, but instead had sent daily gifts. James had told himself the Governor merely wanted to give them a chance to settle into married life on their own. It had only been a week. Perhaps her father would visit after the executions or at the very least they would see him there.   
  
"Is there an event I'm unaware of?" he asked as she held a green gown up to herself in the mirror.   
  
"For the hanging!" she said at once. Then her voice faltered, "and I should wear them while they still fit." The simple mention of that particular topic had her dropping the gown and fleeing, and the sound of her illness carried. James was by no means an expert on such matters, but as much as he had hoped to find some other explanation for the disruption to Elizabeth's womanly cycle that she had reluctantly confided in him about, it seemed unlikely with the additional symptoms she displayed. He had been prepared for the possibility of this and yet wished it that he had had it in his power to spare her of it.

  
  
When Elizabeth came back he'd hung the gown back up. Her mind had wandered again. "You were just in time you know," she told him, utterly uninterested in the clothes and crawling back into bed. He had hoped perhaps this had been a sign she meant to rise at a reasonable hour but her words drove the consideration of her fitful hours from his mind, instead he found himself staring.   
  
He thought of how he had found her on the  _Pearl_ , naked and silent, bruised and bleeding. Even now, she thought the assault upon her had gotten her with child. How on earth had he been in time? He might have even blurted out the question had she not continued.   
  
She carried on with her explanation, not noticing or ignoring his reaction. "You came when they were on the island." Which he had, it had made taking the Pearl somewhat easier. Elizabeth had been on the ship, and the pirates had taken young Turner ashore. "When they got back they were going to . . . they were going to make us . . . so they could watch. They'd already tried." Her voice was very quiet. "They held me down for him and when he wouldn't . . . they beat me to teach him a lesson, then had him whipped."

  
James had seen the welts on the back of Elizabeth's thighs and the marks of the cat on Will's back, but as much as they had horrified him he could never have guessed at the events that preceded them.   
  
She was not done though. "When they turned me over to beat me," she said, "they were doing something to him. I know they were all laughing and he was trying not to make a noise." She folded her arms and glanced down at her chest. "They said I had so little I might as well be a boy, and Will could have me like a boy if he wanted." She closed her eyes as her lower lip trembled and James struggled for anything to say for her. Small wonder William Turner could barely look at her. It was enough for James to wish she wasn't talking about it. He would never tell her that; it was undoubtedly better that she not keep it bottled up even if he could wish it. If she could endure it, he could manage hearing about it. He could not imagine what the boy felt having witnessed it.   
  
"I am glad I could prevent that," he told her awkwardly, "though it will continue to be my biggest regret that I could not reach you sooner."  
  
She looked at him, eyes wide, another of those looks he could not read and that he was convinced indicated his lack of understanding in some matter. She seemed to consider his words for a long time. "When I dream," she said, "and you aren't here," she nodded at what had become his side of the bed, "we’re just left there, you don’t reach us at all." And that, with her words the previous evening, settled that.

  
  
However, the first night James went to Elizabeth's bed before her nightmares started was an absolute exercise in awkwardness. The fact that she wanted him there did not alleviate her nerves about the matter and when he entered the room she looked startled, despite the fact that he'd knocked. She put down the book she was reading and turned her back on him, lowering the light from the lamp.  
  
He pulled back the covers and he saw her shoulders tremble. He nodded to himself, remade the covers and as he did when he came after the nightmares, and lay atop them. Elizabeth immediately got out of bed and he wondered if perhaps this was too soon, nightmares or not. However, she returned with a blanket for him and a somewhat shame faced whisper. "Sorry."   
  
He took the blanket and waited for her to climb back into bed. "This is more than adequate," he assured her. She fussed before climbing into bed, clearly debating the removal of the robe she wore over her night shirt. But eventually she seemed to settle, and once she was safe under the covers she turned to face him this time. She seemed to be thinking on something. The last thing James had expected was a return to the conversation of this morning and certainly not to be asked the next question.   
  
"Do you think I'm boyish?" She was watching him in the dark and he wondered at the wisdom of admitting his attraction to her at this particular junction. Yet he would not lie to her nor, and this was more important, allow the pirate’s words to become truth in her eyes.   
  
"No," he said, "I don't think that because you  _aren't_ , Elizabeth. You're merely slender; it's quite becoming, truly it is." In truth she was too slender, having had little enough weight on her before the shock had caused her loss of appetite. But matters had improved and the nausea inflicted on mothers-to-be, if that was what it was, well that did not last. "You're very lovely," he told her gently. "They only meant to hurt you with their words."   
  
Elizabeth watched him uncertainly; there was an air of disbelief in her face from what he could make out in the dark. She then seemed to accept that; she had, after all, asked. "Good," she said. She moved closer under the covers and clumsily kissed him. He froze - he had not expected it, and furthermore did not think she was ready for this. Yet ignoring her overtures would not help. He kissed her back, carefully and softly. Even that was too much; she pulled away suddenly shy and uncertain. He almost apologised but she did not seem  _unhappy_. He waited to see if she would say anything and he did not want to draw attention to it any more than was necessary.   
  
"Good night, Elizabeth," he said, fluffing his pillow and she did the same. He watched her drift into sleep and she did not wake that night; did not dream. He might, if he could be so bold, count that as the second thing he had been able to do for her since they wed. 

  
  
The next day when he woke, he felt confident enough to persuade her out of bed by nine o’clock. A time, he was well aware, by which he would normally have been at the fort for at least an hour. Startled and grumpy at this sudden insistence, she scowled at him over breakfast but he refused to feel unreasonable about this. She had slept well enough and it would do her good to have some return to normality. A routine. She pushed away the porridge and announced, "I have a headache." He felt very badly about it but Elizabeth was used to having her way and he could not help but suspect this might be a ploy to return to bed.   
  
"Some fresh air would be just the thing for that," he suggested mildly. She looked unconvinced and declined his company for a turn round the garden. But she did at least head outside, and when he glanced to check on her she was quite determinedly shredding some rather lovely roses, leaving a trail of scattered petals wherever she went. She stomped around, looking rather mutinous, and that had not been the effect he had intended at all.

  
  
When she sat down with him for supper, her gown was grass stained, her shoes gone, her cheeks sunburnt and her hair a mess. He made the mistake of holding dinner so she could change and when she returned in the green gown he was surprised. It was not dinner conversation, but he asked anyway, "I thought you meant to wear that at the hanging?"   
  
"I changed my mind," she told him, her tone sharp, her eyes on her food. "The other is fancier." This seemed a strange requirement for the event they were discussing, though the eyes of society would be on her. That he did not look forward to.   
  
"It laces tighter as well," she informed him. "I'm going to be beautiful and slender and married and happy and enjoy myself." He cannot argue with that sentiment, but she continues still. "And they're all going to _die_." That gives him pause but that this pleased her is only natural he reminded himself. He tried not to be perturbed by the outright anticipation she displayed. Attending the hangings would  _help._  He was sure of it.

  
  
Whatever else the day in the garden had done, her appetite seemed markedly improved again. She ate every bit of dinner, despite having not ordered it herself. James felt relieved - if she were with child, she would need the nourishment - a difficult confinement would not improve her health. She excused herself with the intent of writing at note to her father. At this point, a sense of morbid curiosity prompted him to take in some night air and inspect the damage that had been done in the small garden. He nearly tripped over the abandoned shoes, and thought perhaps the maid would be less than pleased with the muddy footprints left on the carpet near the door. However, in the moonlight, the garden looked merely rumpled somewhat. The flowers would bloom again and he could only hope that perhaps a similar future could be found for Elizabeth. 

  
It was perhaps this optimistic set to his thoughts that made the events of the later evening such a disappointment. He had known without question that Elizabeth had been in his study. She moved things; the maids did not. But he did not question it - she may have wanted ink or paper or a book he currently had, for there was no surer way of attracting her interest than to hold onto a volume for more than a day or two. It was as if the empty slot on the shelf drew her attention and then nothing would do but that particular tome.   
  
He changed for bed and knocked as always on Elizabeth's door before entering. She was sitting on the bed, dressed in a nightgown not the shirt, and if it had not been for her demeanour he would have assumed the shirt was being washed. She was sitting crossed legged and humming to herself, rocking slightly to the tune. She turned to look at him, and at the sight of him smiled. There was an unfamiliar brightness to her eyes. Her cheeks were flush from more than sunburn and there was something else about her nervous smile; he did not like it. She stared at him unfocused and patted the bed next to her. He'd been forgiven for attempting to schedule her day, it seemed. But what had brought this behaviour on? The nightgown she wore was the same one from their wedding night and he wondered if she had been given yet more 'advice' from the maid. Perhaps he would have to dismiss the girl; Elizabeth did not need that sort of advice, though it seemed unusual that she would take it. Cautiously he sat next to her and she reached for his hand, trembling slightly.  
  
That was when he smelt it. Elizabeth  _reeked_  of brandy, and when she leant forward to kiss him, he drew back. She looked confused, and then tried again, her lips meeting his. He did not respond, but could feel her shake as she pressed herself against him. The brandy had dulled her sense enough so that she ignored her own shivering and reached for him. He caught her hand firmly and prised her away from him. 

  
  
"Elizabeth," he said, lost for any other words. He could taste the brandy from her kiss. "Stop it." He tried desperately not to display any anger at this behaviour and rather thinks he's failing. It's the anger that stops her.   
  
"Why?" she said hurt and angry all at once, "I want to be your wife." Her earlier words come back to him. It is something the pirates have robbed her of for now, but if she thinks she can force herself to normality simply to show men who are dying for their crimes anyway. . . he will not have it. He does not know how to point out that under the circumstances they will perhaps paying less attention to Elizabeth than she thinks they might.  
  
"You are my wife," he says curtly. "But you are also drunk." He pulls away from her and stands. "I will have nothing from you that requires the amount of brandy you have consumed in advance." James pulls back the covers for her, and after a long moment where he believes she will ignore him, she pulls them over herself. He goes for the door.   
  
"Where are you going?" she said plaintively.  
  
"I have a matter to attend to," he said, his control over his voice limited. "Try to sleep. I'll be back shortly."   
  
There is a cupboard with a lock in his study, but in the end he tips the decanted brandy and whisky out of the window. He does not need them; he has a decently vintaged bottle of wine that he does lock away. He wonders what they have in the kitchen but decides it’s unlikely that she would pursue that; removing the immediate temptation shall suffice. It is not her fault, he reminds himself. It is not him that she requires alcohol to endure, but the act that has been poisoned in her mind. But when she had pressed herself against him, he had  _wanted_  her and he fears that it would take so little to make his self-control slip. Elizabeth was the one who was hurt. It was his responsibility to see no further hurt happened to her.   
  
When he returns to their bedroom, she is not asleep but is facing the opposite wall in the dark. She's turned the covers down for him and although James thinks it unwise, he slips between them. He cannot bring himself to reject her twice and this is an offer he can take without guilt. Elizabeth sleeps easily, the brandy having a soporific effect. He lies awake for what seems like an age. This was a complication he had not anticipated. He's willing to allow her time to heal, but how does he correct her apparent lack of patience with herself?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is further baffled by his wife, and the governor comes to call.

James woke before Elizabeth and was surprised to find her using his chest as a pillow. He had lost feeling in one arm where her slender weight rested on him. He would suspect this was a furthering of last night’s attempted attentions, but she was dead to the world in a tangle of limbs and nightgown and blankets. James seemed almost an afterthought to the whole arrangement. Yet it gave him hope that Elizabeth had found genuine comfort in closeness.  
  
She was so relaxed in sleep that her mouth had fallen open and James could feel a damp patch on the shoulder of his nightshirt. He inspectsed it - she was comfortable enough to dribble on him it would seem – but the smell of brandy is still pervasive. He sat up and lifted her slightly to shift her onto the pillow, trying not to wake her. The routine he had attempted to begin with her might have to wait a day given the brandy consumption. She had not, after all, left very much for him to tip away.   
  
Moving her it turned out was not the best of ideas, and she stirred as soon he set her gently on the pillow. Quickly, Elizabeth sat up, swayed, turned green and retched. He recoiled involuntarily and immediately felt guilty for doing so. It would be better if she were out of the bed, but she was retching so violently that moving her does not seem viable. James held back her hair and rubbed her lower back. For a while it seemed that retching and dry heaves were all it will be. He had just about relaxed as it seemed to slow, when Elizabeth vomited copiously. It carried on for some time, leaving his nightshirt, the bed covers and her nightgown in her line of fire. He supposed this was the brandy combined with her usual trouble.   
  
Elizabeth wiped her mouth on the covers with a small sound of disgust. He disapproved of such behaviour on principle, but it hardly made a difference to the state of the bed. “Elizabeth!” he said cautiously. It was as much for the fact that she seemed to be blearily eyeing the pillow, and if she lay down in her own vomit he would not know where to begin. The room stank now of stomach acid, and of course the pervasive smell of brandy. He pulled his nightshirt off disgusted, and then realised what he’s done.   
  
There was an awkward shuffle where he struggled to reach for and pull on a dressing robe. Thankfully, he had left it at the foot of the bed, and managed to put it on without exposing more of himself to Elizabeth, or staining himself further. Elizabeth watched him carry on with an unusual amount of interest considering the dullness in her eyes and then she follows suit. James at least averted his eyes from her nakedness. She wrinkled her nose again and slid out of bed holding her robe closed. Elizabeth wobbled as she stood and turned green again. He scrambled round the bed and steadied her.  
  
James scooped her up in his arms and held her robe closed. He tried to keep her steady; it was obvious that motion would not help. So they went slowly along the hall to his room. He installed her in his bed (not that he had yet spent an entire night in it,) and found a clean washbasin, in case she should have further need. It was likely the maids would need to air her room and if she befouled this bed, they'd end up in the guest room. Despite the Governor's generosity, the house was modest and he did not want Elizabeth to recover in the cramped, though pleasant, space allotted to guests.  
  
Elizabeth needed bath, as did he, but James was not especially worried about that. The maids could change two sets of linens. What he worried about was Elizabeth. He knew, of course, that really she brought it on herself but he cannot bring himself to think of it like that. For all the nausea that has been a constant morning event, it hadn't fazed her, not like this. Watching her lie pale and headachy, unable to move without retching, was difficult for him. wrenching. He might get rid of the wine after all.   
  
It was afternoon before the alcohol’s effects faded enough for Elizabeth to rise and bathe and sit at the dining room table, eyeing a bowl of porridge dubiously. This meant he could no longer put off the conversation he does not really want to have. He distracted himself from it further by having to suppress his annoyance that her appetite has gone again. She’s managed perhaps two bites of of porridge after first fussing with it - adding sugar and cream before spending a good portion of her time at table stirring it vigorously, as if that might decrease its volume. But James had never been someone who avoided anything because it was difficult and he felt it is not a good time that he should start now. The matter  _must_  be addressed.  
  
“Elizabeth,” he started, “your behaviour yesterday – this business with the brandy. I should not have to tell you that it is unacceptable.” He hoped that she might nod, agree and they could say no more about it. He felt ridiculous scolding her – and it was not as if she could possibly think spending her evenings getting blind drunk would meet with his approval. Of course that was not the case. Elizabeth set her jaw defiantly and pushes her food away. It would have been more worrying if he had seriously thought she was going to eat it.   
  
“It was only a drink,” she said. It had, in fact, only been the best part of a bottle of Armagnac. That she had been conscious to proposition him at all was startling in itself, given her size and youth.   
  
“You  _made_ yourself ill,” he points out. At her unhappy look, he amended it to “More ill, anyway.”   
  
“There is nothing wrong with a married woman enjoying a nightcap,” she informed him. Elizabeth soundsedreasonably convinced of this, and while it certainly was a more acceptable activity for a married woman than an unwed girl. It was not the sort of advantage he and her father had had in mind when thinking of her future.  
  
James seriously could not believe she was arguing with him over this. She was still  _green._  ”There will,” he told her firmly, “be no more nightcaps.” Elizabeth did not answer, but the look on her face seems to indicate that this pronouncement meant very little to her.   
  
James reached for her hand and she pulled away unhappy. The matter they were not speaking on from last night lay between them like a gulf. He did not know how to broach the subject and if he did, Elizabeth would take it as a further scolding. He did not _want_ to scold her and that aspect of her life would be one that remains under her control. Not his, and certainly not under the lack of control of intoxication.   
  
“I only wish to see you safe and well, Elizabeth,” he said. ‘ _And happy,’_  he thought but did not say. “Brandy will not help your health at this juncture. Therefore you shan’t have it. Do I make myself clear?” She nodded sullenly. Feeling that was as close to agreement as he was going to get, he changed topic, - her room would not be fit to return to just yet. The maids had scrubbed the mattress clean but it needs to dry and the room to air. “You may retire to my room,” he informed her; it should not truly be an issue if she still wanted him there for her nightmares. If she no longer does, well, the guest room was adequate for him. “Yours will need to air.”   
  
There was a moment of threatened future difficulties on her face and then she pushed her chair away from the table and slammed a door out on her way out. He watched puzzled and then it sank in. He had just sent his wife to her room. He meant  _tonight_. James knew he should follow her and correct the impression, but the rest will be good for her and frankly he’s surprised that such behaviour from him would be dignified with a response from Elizabeth.   
  
They were three days away from the hangings now and he wondered if things might improve then. Somehow he was beginning to doubt it. He would still have no real idea of what Elizabeth needed or how to give it to her. He can give her time but seemingly she does not want to take it, and the child they both suspect she carried would complicate matters further. He may have salvaged her reputation and future in society by marrying her, but he doubts she thought of this as a favour. He had no one he can ask about this and despite the fact that it would take months to reach her and months for a reply, he considered writing his mother for advice.   
  
Of course, when he wrote to notify his family of his marriage, he had not exactly detailed the exact circumstances of Elizabeth’s misadventure. James thought his mother would not care of such things. That he was happy with his wife would be more than enough for her, or even that he’s married at all. ‘Lieutenant’s take wives’ she had written to him often enough, always inquiring as to when she would have another daughter in law. His suspicions of his father’s opinion on his choice were enough that he is already considering which colony he and Elizabeth might settle in should his time with the Navy or her father’s posting ever come to an end. James would not return with her to England only to expose her to further upset. It is a shame his mother would not meet the daughter-in-law she’d so wanted but when things were more settled they could perhaps correspond.   
  
It was when he was so caught up in thoughts of his own family that he was interrupted with news they have a caller. He suspected who it shall be. There was really only one person who could call on them unannounced without invite or forewarning so close after the wedding and not have it be the height of ill manners and it was indeed his father-in-law.   
  
“James, my boy,” Governor Swann greeted him jovially enough, titles dropped as they were, after all, family now. “How is married life treating you?”   
  
“Well enough, Governor Swann,” he said. The answer was not a lie, married life was treating him well enough. It’s how it was treating Elizabeth that concerned him, and no doubt her father as well. “Elizabeth is having an afternoon rest,” he said. “Let me show you to the sitting room and I shall see if she is well enough to join us.” He should really really have sent a maid, but he thought that the amount of coaxing that might be needed might be beyond them - to convince Elizabeth to join him and not give her father the impression that she needed to be bundled back home with him immediately. His father-in-law agreed to this amicably.  
  
He found Elizabeth reading in bed, still dressed. She’d be creased slightly, but at least can make a reasonably rapid appearance. He did not knock and she feigned sleep at his appearance despite the book in her hand. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady, but he can see her peeping from beneath her lashes. He played along.  
  
“Elizabeth? Your father has come to call on you,” he said gently. For a moment she did not stir or respond and then she squeezed her eyes firmly closed as if in hope of dissuading him with the depths of her sleep. She surely can’t expect that to  _work_. He smiled at the scrunch of her nose such an action caused, and then forced it away not wishing to annoy her further. “Elizabeth, you aren’t asleep,” he said louder, “and you have a guest.”   
  
Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow to look at him. “Well you may tell my father I am not receiving visitors as I have  _retired_ for the afternoon.” James felt certain that attempting to explain that the circumstances in which he had her sent to bed before tea was served will not help him here. It was a misunderstanding but telling her so would merely come across as excuse-making, so he didn’t.   
  
“I can certainly tell him that,” he said, “and he would not wish to disturb your rest, but surely you’ve missed him?” She got out of bed with a huff and he was pleased to see the illness has faded from her looks somewhat, leaving only her temper.   
  
“I shall be certain to tell him you’re doing an excellent job of filling his shoes,” Elizabeth told him as she left. It left him somewhat aggrieved and annoyed at the remark, considering that today of all days, it did fit. Well mostly. James had known Elizabeth and her father for years and he doubted very much that Weatherby Swann has ever so much as sent Elizabeth to her room. He had been prepared for her to be hurt and lost; he had not really considered that she would be so ill tempered.   
  
Elizabeth headed down the stairs without him, clattering as she went. He followed reminding himself to make allowances - it was better she have a temper. It was certainly a sign of recovery and likely that even if she wasn’t ill the after effects of the brandy were hardly going to make her pleasant company. Not that his father-in-law knew about the brandy, but if Elizabeth was sullen and miserable he knew where that blame will fall. He had a sudden vision of Governor Swann packing up his daughter and removing her from James’ care, and it made his heart constrict. He can’t allow that to happen, but then again James could hardly admit to allowing his ill wife to get drunk. Not that he would lie about it. By the time he reached the sitting room caught up in his own thoughts, father and daughter were sitting next to each other making quite convincing small talk and waiting for tea to be served.   
  
It was a relief to see her chattering to her father, not a trace of the sullenness nor illness he’d dealt with all morning. He suddenly wonders if it was for his benefit. If she was unhappy with him she should be able to tell her father that; to ask for what limited help was available in such a circumstance. It seemed remarkable that things had seemed so improved only a day ago. He was considering what excuse he could make after a third cup of tea, to leave his wife to talk to her father in private. Elizabeth has been telling the governor of all about the things they were going to do now that she was well. Most of which were suggestions for activities that have been soundly turned down when he’d brought them up. James did not know if this was a change of heart and genuine enthusiasm or simply an easy conversation filler.   
  
So he might have missed it entirely when she carried on, bright and cheerful and looking as innocent as can be. “But what I’m most looking forward to is sailing.” The governor nearly spilt his tea and looeds at James accusingly; he supposes that would have alerted him to the need for his input into the conversation.   
  
_“Sailing!_  James, are you sure that’s entirely wise at the moment?” And of course, James isn’t. This was also the first he’d heard of it so any rebuttal he might have had was lost as he met Elizabeth’s gaze. Her father glanced between them and back to him. “You know how superstitious the men are, and I hardly think it wise to use your political position to entertain Elizabeth’s whims.”   
  
She looked outraged at this statement and it almost made James smile if he were not concerned about that very thing himself. “I don’t mean on the Dauntless,” Elizabeth said pouting. “On a cutter.” James stared at her for a moment and she turned her gaze to him hopefully. “We’re going to go sailing on a cutter, aren’t we?” She sounded doubtful. No doubt because this was the first he’d heard of it and she’s more than aware of that. He should be angry that she had put him on this spot like that, but he’d been wishing he knew what she wanted since they’d wed. This was the first thing she’d asked for; apart from the alcohol he will not let her have.   
  
“So we were,” he said. “Once Elizabeth no longer feels so weak. I thought that perhaps a short cruise . . . might invigorate her.” She beamed at him, and James felt foolish. There would have to be words,  _again._  She could ask for whatever she wants, but he’d much prefer a simple request. He continued, “See what the sea air does for her.” This reduced her smile somewhat, as if she had taken offence at the reminder of her illness. He supposed he could not blame her given the apparent nature of it.   
  
He rose, “I’ll let you to have a moment to yourselves. Paperwork beckons as usual.” More was delivered daily but if it meant he could be spared for Elizabeth it was not that much of a burden. “Can you join us for dinner, Sir?”

  
“Another time perhaps,” he said. “Bit of a fleeting visit I’m afraid.” James nodded and excuses himself. His father-in-law interrupted him not much later, taking his leave and for a moment they were alone in the hall.   
  
“You’re doing very well with her,” James was told as they wait for Elizabeth to return. She’d run to fetch a book her father simply must read so he may discuss it with her next visit. James can’t deny that the words flood him with relief. “Happier than she’s been in weeks,” were his father-in-law’s next words. James can see that’s true; she seemed almost her old self in a way, even in the innocently underhanded method of making sure she got what she wanted. James had forgotten how she could wheedle out what she wanted. He’d seen it aboard ship on the crossing, but not since their arrival; not since she’d begun to grow up. He was not convinced it was a good sign she had resorted to childish tricks. It was a matter of making clear to her that she can tell him what she needs to. Openly and honestly.   
  
When Governor Swann had been despatched with fond farewells, James wondered how to bring it up but he did not get a chance. “Did you see?” she said brightly. “He came to visit, and he acted like everything was normal.” She looked so genuinely delighted that he did not respond before she added, “I thought I was going to go mad, when he kept acting like I was  _damaged_ in the head.” And then he had no words to answer that. She had not spoken from the time he retrieved her from the  _Pearl_ , until they had come home. After that she’d stayed in bed and refused to eat. Her response was understandable given her experience, but apparently they were aggravating her with their concern.   
  
“It’s not unexpected that he would worry about you,” James reminded her gently. He would only be worried again when news of her condition becomes talk of the town.  _That_  he dreads although she has a husband and people could only speculate. They won’t know for sure, no one but him and her and her father will. “He’ll be worried that you’ve been sick no doubt.”   
  
“I didn’t tell him,” she said dismissively. “I told him I was resting when he arrived because I had a head pain from too much sun.”   
  
That stopped him - such bold faced lying and she was not even ashamed of it. At least earlier she had been hinting - it had not been like this. “Elizabeth, I must insist you not lie to your father like that,” he said sternly. Then his voice softened, “he will need to know eventually, you know that.” They do not pretend that her illness is anything but illness but he’d stopped hoping and has accepted it is likely a babe.. He does not know if she had. She would not meet his gaze after that statement nor refute what he had said and it made him suspicious. “Elizabeth?”   
  
“I made the maids tell him my courses had come at home,” she said after a long moment. “He’ll think it’s yours.” Elizabeth looked at him. “People will doubt of course, conveniently early and all that but he’ll not have it, not if he believes...” she trailed off.   
  
James was less than comfortable with this for numerous reasons; lying to Weatherby Swann mainly, especially in a manner that made it seems like he could not give Elizabeth the slightest time to settle into her new life, or recover from her ordeal before exercising his rights as husband. He thought she was wrong if she thought the Governor would suffer the slightest insult towards his daughter no matter what he believed. “You do him a disservice,” he told her. “You truly do, Elizabeth...”  
  
“He’s mine to do a disservice to,” she said and her face is closed to him now. He’s said the wrong thing again. “I’m going to bed.” She was almost at the stairs when he takes her elbow. If she wass done with wanting concern he could work with that.   
  
“After supper.” He told her, steering her into the dining room.   
  
“I don’t want it,” Elizabeth insisted, as he showed her to her seat.   
  
They were there early for the meal and he had set himself up for a battle of wills - he knew if she got herself to bed she would not leave it.   
  
“If you are to recover enough to go sailing,” he informed her, “there will be no more missed meals.” Elizabeth gawked at him and appeared genuinely horrified. James held her hand for a moment, before taking his own seat. “You do not have to finish every meal or clean your plate,” he carried on, determined. “You can still chose what you want served, but there will be nourishment three times a day or there will be no cutter.” He watched her carefully as her horror turns to barely controlled temper.   
  
“Fine.” She near spat the word at him, her temper barely controlled.  
  
The food was served and he watched her pick at it, determined to do as little as possible to satisfy the requirements he’s set. It was not hard however to be more patient than Elizabeth and by ignoring this display of temper and her fussing with the food and paying attention to his own meal, she managed a good half of it. He did not comment on this and kept his relief (and his concern) to himself. She excused herself and he permited it. That she ate any of the meal was a greater victory than he expected.   
  
He found her in the study when he went to retire, not in bed. She’s dressed in a nightshirt, one of his, but not the one from the  _Pearl_. It seems she has helped herself to another. She was sat in a chair, her knees pulled up her chin, staring at the empty decanters. “I meant it,” he told her.   
  
“It helps me sleep,” she insisted. He had started that then he thought, when he gaveher that measure of whisky after a nightmare.   
  
“You’d sleep without it,” he told her. “If you were in bed. You do not wish to become reliant on it surely.”   
  
She ignoreds his remarks. “You didn’t tell him,” she asked, “why not?”   
  
“Your father does not need more reason to be concerned and I had already gotten rid of the alcohol.” There is that, but really it was that he cannot tell her he didn’t want her father to think of him as a failure as a husband so soon.  
  
“I thought he might have told you to get rid of any alcohol before I got here.” She told him suddenly which made him start. This was news to him. If Elizabeth had been drinking when she had left her father’s home, no one had told him.  
  
Elizabeth seemed quite attached to the chair and James shook his head and scoops her easily into his arms. She weighed nothing still and once she was settled in bed, he finally asked. “What were you drinking at your father’s house?” He knew he should not feel relieved that this was a problem she had already, but he was nonetheless. He did not cause this but he would help her with it.   
  
“Brandy,” she said yawning. She tired easily for someone who spent half the day in bed and claimed to need brandy to sleep. “Whisky,” she added. “Same as here.” She snuggled into the pillow, her words sleepy and not well thought out. “But only,” she added in a voice thick with sleep, “because neither of you had any gin.”   
  
The casualness of that remark kept him awake long after Elizabeth was asleep. And another precaution to be take then - prevent the maids from giving Elizabeth overly hot baths.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth continues to be difficult and the newly weds attend the hangings where they have an unexpected encounter.

The next three days were difficult to say the least. Elizabeth’s ability to perform at the outrageous requirements of being forced to rise at a decent hour, eat three meals a day, and not tell lies; did not diminish one scrap. Elizabeth was so busy being ill tempered she even ceased to be sick and her appetite seemed to return. James considered that the amount of door slamming, stomping, sulking and scowling she managed to do might put demands on a body. When not at his wit’s end, James could at least see positives in this. Her attempts to spite him by having three helpings of dessert to one of dinner for example, but he said nothing and frankly marvelled that she managed it. The important thing was that she ate dinner at all.   
  
Her attempts to bait him continue, mostly using yet another gift of her father’s. James was not actually sure if it was new or it had simply been previously ignored. Yet the easel and watercolours had come out the day after her father’s visit and even now Elizabeth was more than likely in the garden, sulkily producing yet another truly horrible painting. Her lack of artistic ability might have been endearing given the effort she managed to put in, if not her choices of subject matter. He had done himself no favours by looking over her first effort well before its completion and after a long moment’s thought had gave in and asked her what it was meant to be. A gibbet had been the reply and by the time the painting was complete it was at least obvious. James’ avoided looking at any subsequent paintings but he sees them in passing as she leaves them to dry. He would be surprised if she has much red paint left. He wonders if she will ask for more or find another hobby besides painting gore.  
  
Her sunburn grew worse and she only ever wore a hat if he sent the maid out with one. He assumed this was taken as some kind of order, but it was better she resent him for ordering her rather than suffer sunstroke. Paint marks trailed through the house after her, and when not busy painting she distracted herself with the other presents from her father that have been unnoticed until now. She had a method to it in a way. She focused on one thing for an absurdly short period of time and then abandoned it. Flowers are admired and sniffed, occasionally they made it in a vase by Elizabeth’s hand. (Mostly they are handed off to a maid to be disposed of.) Sweets are picked at and then left open and mostly seem to attract insects, if he does not disposes of them. Dresses are tried on and then abandoned for the maids to hang up. The odd wedding present that arrived belatedly is dealt with in the same manner, brief fascination and then utter disinterest.  
  
When she ran out of red paint, she painted an abstract canvas of blue swirls and patterns. It was eye catching and familiar in a way he cannot place. James asked what it is, startled that it is so different, and so much of an improvement on her other efforts. “It was meant to be the ocean,” Elizabeth told him, “but the canvas was not big enough.” Then she was off to inspect a tea set that’s been delivered with a disapproving eye.

  
  
The night before the hangings, Elizabeth came to bed so bright and chirpy James had to resist the urge to smell her breath. This turned out to be unnecessary as she leant over and kissed him softly.  
  
“I have not been sick for three days,” Elizabeth informed him. She was very smug about this as if it is a feat she has achieved rather than a happy coincidence.  
  
Nonetheless, it was good news and she has every right to be happy about it. “So I have noticed,” James said, he brushed a stray curl back off her face casually while Elizabeth was so close. Not being sick and eating properly, he almost felt smug himself.  
  
“And I do not have . . . “ Elizabeth broke off and seemed to be struggling with the phrasing of something, a new sight for James; normally she said whatever she was thinking without qualm. There was a vague motion at her upper body, “anything else.”  
  
James only had a vague idea of what other symptoms she should have, and after a moment’s thought he took her point. He saw what she was hoping and as much as he would like it to be true as well, he was not sure he should agree - it would only get her hopes up.  
  
Elizabeth had further thoughts on the matter to share with him though, and he kept silent so she could talk. “I did think, perhaps… well, with them being cursed, perhaps they could not father children.” She curled in on herself slightly and whispered, “all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake their lust.”

James frowned at that - a pitiful excuse no doubt for misusing her ever more. He thought with every fibre of his being that allowing her to persist in this cursed delusion was foolish, yet contradicting her on it could lead to tantrums and she was finally talking to him. “I do not suppose there is anyway to know for certain on that score.” She was so close to him he slid an arm round her shoulders. He knew she did not like to be coddled but arguing with her over undead pirates? He could not see that helping matters either. She was fierce in her insistence that it was real.  
  
“I know you do not believe it,” Elizabeth said settled against him, she rested her cheek against his chest as glanced up at him, actually looking comfortable in the circle of his arms.  
  
“I know you believe it,” he offered. Whatever it was; a method of coping, a shared delusion, James did not think it helped, he did not think it healthy but he haD not doubted her conviction since he has heard her speak on it. It had made very little sense when she he had, only the detail’s the Dauntless’ surgeon had gleaned from Turner that had filled in the gaps of the disturbing and unlikely tale. What was more important was that Elizabeth did not delude herself on other things. “Elizabeth, your courses. . .” How on earth did he talk about that with her?  
  
“They have never settled,” she informed him, “not properly, not since they started. My governess said it was because I was never settled, always running around, she said I was going to give myself a ill humour.” James did not ask which governess this had been but he was well aware there had been more than one. They never seemed to last very long. He could distinctly recall Governor Swann making excuses regarding the effect of the tropical climate on those poor women. He had believed that entirely at the time.  
  
“We shall have to wait and see,” he said pressing a kiss to the top of her head and persuading her gently into bed.

  
  
The next day, Elizabeth woke him at dawn; a not entirely unwelcome development, but a surprising one. She was like a child on Christmas morning, and although she’d settled on a gown already she was starting to waiver. James tried just to enjoy seeing her so happy, whatever the reason. The arrangements for this hanging made before his leave, before his wedding, were different. He had defeated pirate ships before but normally they had fallen to the  _Dauntless’_  guns. That the  _Black Pearl_  had been captured with crew mostly intact was unusual. New gallows had been built to accommodate the number of condemned. An event it may be, but no-one wanted to spend the time it would take to watch the pirates die one at a time. Once Port Royal had needed such gallows all the time, but that had been some years ago. James’ task now was to tame the sea and rarely - if ever - was a prize like the  _Black Pearl_  captured with nearly all hands. Only because of its hostages at that; if it had not been for them, the  _Pearl_  would have been sunk off Isla de Muerta.  
  
James was distracted from this line of thought by Elizabeth fussing with her wardrobe. She had changed her mind about which gown to wear again and James ventured the opinion that perhaps her new selection was a little bright for a hanging. Elizabeth stared at the gown she’d chosen stubbornly, and for a heartbeat James was absolutely certain he has inadvertently goaded her into insisting on that one just to be contrary. But she didn’t and the morning continues without problems. She was talkative at breakfast, clearing her plate and asking for more. James tried to relax and simply enjoy the peace of a good day. He hoped it would continue. He had thought the idea of seeing her assailants again might distress Elizabeth, even if they are to die.  
  
James hoped she was not hiding any distress from him, but did not have any real confidence that the Elizabeth he saw and that she is presenting to the world was actually indicative of her true feelings. It made anger coil in his belly. He was not stupid; he knew she had been a difficult child on occasion. But she was grown now - if only just and he does not believe she had found it necessary to hide herself, to be so false about everyday social interactions until this. Something else the pirates had done to her. With society he could understand, even he had had to fake interest on occasion and the odd bit of dishonesty was understandably preferable to rudeness - but with her father? With him? It was not necessary, and it concerns him she thinks it was. 

  
  
Fort Charles was busy. Such a day was an event, and a well attended one at that. Elizabeth was ignored at first by both her former peers, the unmarried girls who are just out in society, and her current ones, the married women both young and old. She stood on his arm and watched them unconcerned. He supposed relatively speaking it was not that much of a bother. He was unsuspecting of her eventual reaction when she excused herself and approached the girls who were (at least to his knowledge) her former friends. They attempted excuses but Elizabeth would not have it and she showed off her engagement and wedding rings. They all look envious at that at least, instead of awkward. Elizabeth was married now and mistress of her own household and they were all still subject to their parent's directions. Envy soon led to sniping as one girl apologised for missing the wedding. as another sniffed and announced there was no call to be sorry. Concern flared in him and he stepped closer unthinkingly.  
  
"You certainly were not missed," Elizabeth retorted before he can say anything and he suppressed a smile. It's true enough if not for the reasons Elizabeth was implying. She could not have dealt with spite at the wedding, but she seemed to be coping with it well enough now. If answering it with perhaps justifiable rudeness can be classed as coping. He left her to it for a short while; he did not think his hovering would help. He made a short circuit of the room, he spoke to his men confirming all is in place and that they shall begin on time. He briefly conferred with the Governor, who was delighted to see Elizabeth mingling. Then James headed back to Elizabeth.  
  
Elizabeth was in the midst of regaling the other girls with a tale of high adventure. She did not seem to notice his approach and so he got to hear the tale of how James had been her dashing rescuer. It was momentarily flattering until Elizabeth began to describe him cutting pirates down with as always a distinct emphasis on gore. She was describing the purple of the guts on a pirate he'd' unseamed from nave to the chaps' while the other girls went pale or green by turns and James wondered at how Elizabeth could make even her knowledge of Shakespeare seem dubious. At least he was not accused of fixing heads to battlements. 

  
  
It seemed one girl has had enough. He recognised Miss Prescott just as she interrupted to announce that no matter how many pirates the Captain had killed, he'd left it a little late for Elizabeth. Though Miss Prescott did not see why he had to marry Elizabeth and have a _ruined_ wife when it had been her own fault she'd gotten herself despoiled by pirates. There was an awkward silence; even Elizabeth had no answer. Finally one of the other girls told Miss. Prescott to hush despite the quiet. There were murmurs of ‘don't be cruel’ and ‘poor Elizabeth married without even a season’.  
  
Elizabeth made an unladylike noise, "I did not need a season," she announced. "I always knew I should marry James. I would have given him all the dances at my début if I could have. And when he rescued me, he was magnificent and I knew I should marry him as soon as possible, and then my father said he could permit it and we didn't have to wait at all because we knew there would be lots of awful gossip anyway and I might as well be happy."  
  
He chose this moment to interrupt before she conjured up anything else and wondered if he dared hope that any of it were true. He had certainly planned to court her once she was out, but he had never indicated as such. It would have been improper, but he had been an acquaintance of long standing and he would feel somewhat better about their whole marriage, if he were not simply a lifeline to her. 

  
  
"Elizabeth, er… darling," he attempted to play along with this love story she's invented even though he knew it would only encourage her. He cannot quite bring himself to show her up any more than circumstance already has. "Your father is looking for you." She kissed his cheek and took his proffered arm as they took their leave. There was glowering from at least one of the girls and Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder at them to mouth ' _magnificent.'_ He reminded himself he was a Captain of the Royal Navy and will not let a girl of fifteen make him blush in public even if she was his wife.   
  
The Governor is occupied and she did not question that her father did not actually want to see her. He realised belatedly that she had him lying as well. Not promising. James thought back on her tale. It was disturbing in its accuracy, even without the gore. Elizabeth had been safely locked away in his cabin on the Dauntless by the time battle with the pirates had been joined on their return from the island. How could she know he'd cut a man apart in anger?   
  
"I didn't think you witnessed any casualties," he said mildly, curious but not wanting to push.   
  
"Will told me," Elizabeth informed him. "But I made it sound good didn't I? Much better than he did," she assured him, as if this is a good thing. This ability to discuss pirates and gore without flinching no longer surprised him but it still disconcerted him. He tried to think of it this way; that she can discuss it at all is progress, and she certainly had cause to want the pirates dead. He had merely not expected such good cheer at the prospect. And now James needed to have words with Mr. Turner as well regarding appropriate conversation with young women. Perfect. Mr. Turner would likely be here today. It was an event and he had been wronged as well. The marks on his back would likely scar visibly. Unlike Elizabeth's scars.  
  
The Governor joined them in the end, and Elizabeth was quiet now, staring at the gallows. They were set to begin at midday and James can tell from the sun overhead it is nearly that. Elizabeth fussed impatiently with her fan and James tried not to think on her earlier words too much. As much as he would like to believe she had not made it up entirely . . . her track record was unconvincing. She was a  _good_  liar. But her plans for her début? He could find reasons to dance with her, couldn’t he? And her lack of a season could be made up in some small way now she was much less upset, or as he preferred to think of it, more recovered. They could attend events, and he could court her the way he would have, as if circumstance had not forced them to an early match. It would simply be without chaperones or any of the uncertainty, so he might even enjoy it as well. Especially if she was right in her hope that she wasn't with child . . . he tells himself he would do it anyway. Her hope may be simple wishful thinking and that doesn't make it true. It won't help her to accept the potential of a child if he treated her any differently. Either way, she was his wife and he'll do whatever he can for her. 

  
  
James was distracted from his thoughts when he felt her stiffen beside him suddenly, her hold on his arm becoming painful. He thought they must have brought out a prisoner while he was planning, but they haven't so he follows her gaze and was startled himself. Meandering though the crowd, weaving determinedly towards them unsteadily, was  _Jack Sparrow_.   
  
He looked even drunker than was habitual for him, if that could be believed. His usual swaying gait was even more exaggerated than usual. The smell of rum mixed with unwashed pirate hit them well before he got close.  
  
"Captain Norrington." he slurred. "You sly dog! If you had mentioned that the damsel in distress was your intended, my help would not have come so cheap." James pried Elizabeth off his arm and on to her father’s and stepped forward so he was between her and the pirate.   
  
"I hardly count pardon from a list of crimes so long it took up two charge sheets cheap, Sparrow." James had supposed Sparrow would have left Port Royal after being pardoned, but without a ship or funds he was likely stuck. Although it seemed, he had been able to acquire rum somehow and James saw no reason why Sparrow could not work for his passage somewhere else. _Anywhere else_ , away from here.  
  
"What help?" demanded Elizabeth from behind him. She was glaring at Sparrow but when James looked closer he could see the glare softening. He could see the slight fascination on her face, and he was stunned. Was there no end to her fascination with pirates even after what she'd been through? Governor held firmly to his daughter. James focused his attention back on Sparrow, who was watching Elizabeth with interest himself.   
  
"Didn't he tell you, pet?" Sparrow addressed her. "Take all the credit, did he? Your beloved here would never have found you had I not given him the heading for the dreaded Isla de Muerta. You see, it is an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is." Elizabeth stepped towards Sparrow, despite her father's efforts. James made sure he stays between them. She was like a moth with a flame and it is infuriating.   
  
Then Sparrow eyed her even with James in his way, his dark kohl lined gaze lingered on the neckline of her gown. "Well as long as the Captain here was well rewarded." Just like that the fascination died, not that it prevented James from wanting to strike the man   
  
"Just the  _heading?_ " Elizabeth asked and she turned to her father. "I think we should hang him as well, he's been over-compensated." James may have to think it worth every bit of worry over her bloodthirsty tendencies just to hear the explosion of outrage from Jack Sparrow's throat. Governor Swann, however, does not. Elizabeth finds herself pushed back towards her husband as Swann steps forward.   
  
“Careful, luv,” Jack warned. But James was between them and Elizabeth does not look inclined to take this warning.  
  
"It hardly appears that you're in a position to negotiate, Sparrow." James decided he would have Sparrow removed from these proceedings, if the man insisted on watching his former shipmates hang, he could do it a far removed distance from Elizabeth.

  
  
"What do you want?" Governor Swann asked, exasperation and anger clear in his tone. James thought bribing the man to be gone was asking for trouble, but he was not the Governor here so he held his tongue.   
  
“A trinket, of neither use nor ornament to either of you,” said Sparrow caught in a battle of glowering with Elizabeth. “A mere trifle in the end.” James knew what he was going to ask for even before he said it. “I want my ship back.”   
  
“Mr. Sparrow, if you really think that I would release to you a ship so that you may continue to pray on the innocent merchants of the Caribbean, you are much mistaken.” Sparrow may have asked this of Governor Swann, but it was clearly a naval matter and under his own jurisdiction.   
  
“Captain Sparrow!” The man corrected him instantly - not that James planned to grant him the title. “Not  _a_  ship!” Sparrow argued, “my ship, and you’re hardly in a position to know what I’d do with it if I should have it. You may have convinced me of the error of my ways and I shall be as honest as the day is long as soon as the  _Pearl_  is back where she belongs.”   
  
“The  _Pearl_  is where she belongs,” James told the pirate and he would never deny that delivering this news gives him no small matter of satisfaction. “I had her scuttled. She’ll harm no-one from the ocean floor.”   
  
It was common knowledge that Barbossa had been Captain of the Pearl and a blight on the ocean since before they arrived in Port Royal. As outlandish as Sparrow’s claims on the ship were, this announcement rattled him and he rocked back on his feet and James did not want to see what he does next. Or rather he did not want Elizabeth to see. The condemned are being led out on to the gallows and soon enough this will be done.  
  
“Gentlemen,” he addresses Murtogg & Mullroy, “find Mr. Sparrow another vantage point to observe the proceedings, will you?” They do so but it seemed news of the  _Pearls’_ demise has clipped even Sparrow’s wings and he did not even seem to struggle as he’s dragged off. 

  
  
It goes as smoothly as such an event can after that. Elizabeth watched carefully to see every one of them die including the odd pirate whose neck does not snap and was left to choke slowly dangling. She murmured questions occasionally. Some pirates were noticeably missing, and she asked especially about the Captain. James had run Barbossa through himself and he told her so quietly, wondering how Mr. Turner missed that titbit of information. By the time it was done her grip on his arm was fierce again, and she was looking at the crowds warily, and she was pale despite the tan.   
  
“I believe you have had a touch of sun, Elizabeth,” he said. “I don’t think we will stay.” He half expected her to look annoyed at his presumption but she smiled tightly and nods. He’s relieved. He could take her home and perhaps the knowledge the men who hurt her are dead, would help her in a way he cannot.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James attempts to be helpful and actually talk to his wife and is given a piece of Elizabeth's mind for his trouble.

Leaving the fort did not help as much as James had hoped. Elizabeth seemed to withdraw further into herself on the carriage ride home. He did not press her to talk and she fidgeted restlessly. James did not like feeling so consistently helpless. When he stepped out of the carriage, he turned to offer Elizabeth a hand down - something that honestly he had even odds on being rejected. He was surprised and pleased when she actually took his hand and held onto it tightly even once she was steady on her feet.   
  
"A touch of sun?" she asked him suddenly. "Did I really look. . ." she trailed off. She sounded annoyed and it is only belatedly he realised she was annoyed with herself not with him.   
  
"I am sure it was not obvious to anyone else." He attempted to sound reassuring as he steered her indoors. She looked momentarily defeated.   
  
"I did not think it would . . . I thought I would feel different," she confessed. "I did not think you would have to bring me home because I could not manage."   
  
There was apparently no end to the ways Elizabeth could surprise James. He guided her into the drawing room and coaxed her into sitting down. She looked fidgety and flighty and he wondered where she would have wandered without his guidance.  
  
"Elizabeth ," he encouraged, "you did very well today." He cannot help but sound a tiny bit disapproving when he speaks to her. "Very convincing."   
  
"I do not want their pity," she told him picking up on the disapproval instantly. His face softened and Elizabeth caught that at once. "Or yours," she added, her tone hot with temper.   
  
"Concern and pity are not the same thing," James told her, slightly exasperated. Could he do nothing right? "If you are wanting me to cease worrying about you, Elizabeth, I am afraid you are going to be disappointed."  
  
She tilted her head at him and mimicked his cadence and tone, "so it would seem." She pulled off her hat and made a face that indicated at least to him that her life was nothing but disappointment. James recognised the way she is was hovering now and he knew if he allowed her Elizabeth would flee to painting or sulking or to see if she could locate some alcohol again. He reached for her hand and tried to say something that would help. Instead he ended up questioning her.  
  
"You cannot possibly prefer that we not care?" he said, disbelief in his tone. And wondered what she might answer, he did not at this point genuinely understand what she wanted exactly. That made things difficult - as if they needed to be any more so.   
  
The question was clearly a great imposition and she heaved a sigh and looked towards the door and then back at his grip on her hand. "No," she said after a long pause, "no, that is not what I would prefer."   
  
He'd been somewhat desperate to keep her talking and so prompted, "and today . . . how did you think today would go?" She had clearly had a view in her mind of how she wanted it to go  
  
"I do not know," Elizabeth snapped at him but apparently it was enough just to get her started on the matter and her words flooded out from then on. "Just differently. I thought I would feel better that they were dead, but I am not improved at all. Maybe I never will be and instead of being the Governor's daughter or the Captain's wife, I am going to be the girl who was kidnapped by pirates, forever and ever, that is all ever anyone will think of me. I did not even like being  _the Governor's daughter_. I like being  _Elizabeth._  But this is worse. At least before people just expected me to be something, a credit to my father or some such nonsense. Now they look down at me, or pity me or think I am fragile. They should mind their own business."   
  
This outpouring was a relief in a way. He was not sure he could do anything about it, but it seemed much more like Elizabeth to rail against her circumstance than quietly accept them. "Things will change in time." he assured her, "People have to find ways to react to situations like these. It will not be like this forever. It is still very recent, and they will forget eventually when something else becomes the talk of town." It was hardly a surprise that people could not forget at the hanging. The crimes had been read out though of course nothing specific had been said about Elizabeth. The assumption would have been made even if the pirates had done nothing more than ransom her. And even if they wouldn't actually forget, it would cease to be the talk of the town in time.  
  
" _They_?" Elizabeth said, her voice rose in volume as she looked at him, clearly vexed, "And when will you forget? When will you stop reacting like I am simple?"   
  
James could not quite believe this accusation but before he responded she must have seen it in his face. "Don't look at me like that," she told him. " _You_ are the worst. You have married me, but you do not think of me as your wife. It is like my father asked you to look after me; telling me when to eat and when to get up. You do not even like my paintings! I got drunk  _once_  and you banned alcohol from the house. I tried to kiss you and you made it plain I am  _ruined_  and not wanted." Elizabeth wrenched her hand away from James, harder than was strictly necessary, and got to her feet. "You do nothing but treat me like I am broken," she told him, "and so I cannot help but think that I am." Then she was off _again,_  there was no chance for him to have responded to her accusations.   
  
James planned on giving Elizabeth some time to calm herself before he answered her tirade. But his patience had grown thin and he knew that keeping his temper was important. At least once he had made it clear several of her assumptions were wrong matters might improve. Might. He was about to go upstairs when he was interrupted by the maid. "Mrs. Norrington said to say she is unwell and has retired early, sir. She will not be down for lunch or tea."   
  
James found this a tad convenient and wondered if instructing Elizabeth to  _stop telling lies_  would be construed as no longer treating her as broken? Or simply dismissed as more fatherly behaviour? But Mary had only relayed the message. "Thank you," he said dismissing her but then added at the last minute. "Take her some broth at tea time, in case she has improved any."   
  
James found he had no mind for concentrating on anything else for the rest of the day and the single occasion he passed by the firmly closed bedroom door his annoyance was severely dampened by the sound of fairly obvious weeping. In the end James retired at an uncustomarily early hour simply as an excuse to check on her. Elizabeth's cheeks and pillow case are tear stained but the bowl of broth is empty. She was already asleep and he tried not to disturb her when he got into bed next to her. "I do not think you are broken." James said to her sleeping form, as he pressed a kiss to her temple.   
  
Before he had went to sleep, James had had every intention of letting Elizabeth sleep until she wanted to rise before he addressed her concerns. However for the second day in a row Elizabeth was awake before him. For the second day in a row, Elizabeth had awoke early and showed every evidence of being cheerful that she has. James looked at her askance. Yesterday he had understood, today he did not. She had managed to get fully dressed without waking him, although the dress is a plain one that does not require lacing and her hair was somewhat haphazard. She was sat by the window humming and she smiled winningly when she saw he was also awake. It was such a contrast to yesterday that he  _stared_ , unable to even return the smile.   
  
"Good morning," Elizabeth greeted, as she made her way over to the bed and he resisted the urge to ask 'is it?' because immediately she made it plain why it is. She pulled back the covers on her side of the bed to show off a vivid stain. "My courses came." Belatedly she blushed as he stared and then rehid the stain under the cover as she looked sheepish but she cannot hide her delight. James felt like he'd released a breath he didn't know he had held in and smiled back. He could almost congratulate her but that seemed wrong somehow.   
  
"That is a relief," he said as calmly as he could manage. Another thing occurs to him though and he had to bring it up. It had been some time since the attack. More than a month - nearly two now. Can she be certain it's her courses? "Perhaps we should call for the doctor," he said. "I know you mentioned you were not settled but. . . "   
  
"No," Elizabeth said firmly. "It  _is_  my courses." She looked at him. "Besides, if it were anything else there would be nothing to do and nothing I would  _want_  done." This to James does not really explain why she doesn't want a doctor. There might be things that she needed it if she’s wrong about it being her courses. But Elizabeth always has a reason.  
  
"I don't like the doctor," she informed him. "He examined me after I got home and he insisted on checking things even though I  _told_  him it was pointless."   
  
She looked uncomfortable and this prevented him from pointing out the reasons this would be necessary but only for a moment. James was not to treat her as broken, she'd demanded and so he doesn't. "He would have believed you, Elizabeth," he said trying to phrase this delicately. "But if you were damaged internally you would not have known. He had to check."  
  
Elizabeth looked uncomfortable and he reached for her hand and she no longer wished to talk about that it seems. "I am sure it is just my courses," she insisted. "It would hurt more if it were something else. Surely?" James pulled her into his arms uncertain. He was more than a little surprised that Elizabeth even remembered her exam. She had been so different when they had gotten her off the Pearl. Silent and shocked and half in a daze; he wondered if she remembers all of it.   
  
"Neither of us know," he said. "The doctor would, and I would worry less if you were to see him." James was trying now, but she was a grown woman if only barely and his wife - let her decide if she would see the doctor. There was a long moment of silent consideration.  
  
"I suppose he could advise me," said Elizabeth, "but I shall not have an exam," she warned. James was just surprised and pleased that she has willingly agreed and does not argue the point.   
  
Nor on arrival does the doctor. He concurred with Elizabeth that so early on there was little difference. This caused her to look very smug for a short while, and she was prescribed a tea made of raspberry leaf. This brought an end to the smugness because it was pronounced horrid but she drank it under protest.   
  
Elizabeth announced that she wanted some air and it is a brief moment before he took the hint and offered her his arm for a turn round the garden. They had walked in silence for sometime before Elizabeth glanced at him sideways and asked. "Am I very awful?"   
  
James could not help himself, he stopped them and turned to face her properly. "Not even a tiny bit," he promised her solemnly. "Elizabeth, if things are difficult it is not your fault but circumstances . . ."   
  
"It's hardly yours either though, is it?" she admitted and James knew that from Elizabeth that was almost an apology.   
  
"No, but perhaps I could have made things clearer." He is older and wiser and more importantly _responsible_ for her and if there was blame to be apportioned it comes to him not her. He ran her concerns through his head and tried to address them. "Elizabeth, I want to look after you because you are my wife, not despite it. I want you to eat and not spend all day in bed because I thought it would help you recover. I took the alcohol away because I have seen it used as a crutch by others, and it would have done more harm than good in the end. I have never thought of you as ruined.” He took a breath before this next sentence - he was not sure it were a mistake to let her know he wanted her. He did not want to frighten her. “And I want you very much but only if the feeling is returned." He proved this last point by leaning in to kiss her softly and sweetly and slightly more intensely than he had done before. The fact that she did not pull away made his head spin and he doubted his own self control. He broke the kiss in the end after a long moment. He had more to say. "I have always thought of you as  _Elizabeth_ ," he told her, “not the Governor's daughter”. James smiled at her and she looked so herself again but was  _his_  now. Her lips are kiss swollen and she was smiling at him. He could not help but tease her. "But I will admit that with the exception of the Ocean that would not fit, I do truly detest your paintings." She looked outraged and then suddenly giggled.   
  
"I will paint you one specially to hang in your office," she threatened, her face smoothed of laughter and looking quite serious.   
  
"If you did I would hang it," he told her, "no matter how dreadful it was." And at that she kissed him. Bold and unsure but for once, but he thought, genuinely happy.   
  
The change in Elizabeth is if not drastic, obvious to him. She came to meals without him demanding it. She got up at a decent hour  _nearly_  every other day. She painted still, but this dreadful painting he had been promised for his office had yet to materialise and after a week she asked almost shyly if he would like the ocean one, because he had said he liked it. Without him even asking she seemed to have stopped telling him obvious untruths and he is quite pleased with himself. Until he looked at the calendar and realised he has a week before his leave ran out and Elizabeth still wants no company but his own. Invitations have started coming again as people move on to new gossip but she declined them all unless it is something they meant to attend together. No invitation to tea or garden party can attract her interest. He was not going to push, but it can't be healthy for her to spend every day in nothing but her own company. He bought her more paint including red, but to his relief no more gore is painted. He simply had to be patient and she would carry on improving. James wondered if he were being big headed to think his absence would have such an effect on her recovery.   
  
That night she cuddled up next to him in bed for the first time while both awake and sober, (although they have occasionally woke like this.) She lifted her head to kiss him and as slow and steady as they take this, he still held himself bodily away from her not wanting to rush or seem demanding. It was another step and with each one she takes the thought of things going backwards is harder.   
  
When an idea finally occurred, he had not left himself much time. He'd been called to the fort a day or two early and was glad to see nothing has gone amiss in his absence. They'll be at sea soon enough and that was another problem he'd yet to think of a solution to. He was walking home, it was a nice enough day and he thought he might call and buy Elizabeth a gift - not that she needed a gift. Her father still maintained his affection that way with visits a rare occurrence. James knew that the governor was a good man, and a good father though, and so remained confident this was temporary state and only allowing the newlyweds some privacy. Besides, he thought his present was better than anything his father-in-law had come up with.   
  
His faith is rewarded when he arrived home and his father-in-law's carriage was outdoors. This seemed a good thing until he stepped into front door and heard Elizabeth's raised voice. He heard only the end of an entirely different tirade to the one he received, but he got the gist of it, which was 'no more presents.' The bundle in his arms squirmed and he looked apologetic and tried to think of a good home for it given Elizabeth's lack of desire for presents at the moment. He decided to take it to the kitchen. He can at least feed the small creature before . . . - behind him a door is slammed and he can't help but look back and see Elizabeth was staring at the front door, a hurt but determined look on her face. He hid the kitten in his uniform jacket as he wondered if he should go to her. It mewed loudly and she glanced round confused. He stepped towards her. "What is that?" she demanded as another high pitched squeak emerged.   
  
"It's nothing," he said. "Was that your father?" As distractions go, that one was pretty pitiful and he should have made an excuse to leave.   
  
"Yes," Elizabeth said, annoyance in her tone. "He's gone now. I'm rude and spoiled and ungrateful apparently." She poked at the bulge in his jacket with one finger and the kitten squeaked in protest. "Is that a cat?"   
  
"Yes," said James, because he could hardly deny it.   
  
"Why do you have a cat in your jacket?" she said, her look suggested this was most foolish of him, which it was. It was a kitten, not even house trained as yet no doubt.   
  
"I thought the cook’s children might like it?" he invented, the declaration against presents vivid in his memory. "The mother died, and she needs feeding by hand with a dropper." Elizabeth looked intrigued and then she pulled back the lapel of his jacket to peer at the cat. There was definite interest in her face and he felt hopeful. "Unless you would like. . ." Elizabeth shook her head and he looked disappointed. Then the kitten hissed at her and swiped out with a tiny paw. James was shocked - it had seemed so friendly!   
  
Elizabeth scrunched up her nose and to his surprise made a small cooing sound. The sort girls normally make at small animals and babies but he had never heard it from Elizabeth before. "Look how sweet that is," she said happily. "It thinks it's in charge." She reached into his jacket and scooped the kitten out as it tried to swipe at her with tiny claws which Elizabeth avoided deftly. "Hello there," she said, "what will we call you then?" She headed off to the kitchen with the kitten and he watched mildly surprised at his own success.   
  
Calypso, as Elizabeth named the kitten, was given a basket in their room and yet somehow ended up sleeping by Elizabeth's feet. They haven't been parted since Elizabeth snatched the tabby bundle of fluff from his arms. It may not be much company but Calypso is certainly a success as a distraction. He slid one arm round Elizabeth as she lay on her side and teased the kitten by moving her foot under the covers. They both watched amused as Calypso attempted to pounce on this mysterious moving thing. When the kitten succeeded she tried to bite Elizabeth's toes and this tickled enough to make Elizabeth giggle. He kissed her cheek and slept easier than he might have done.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' return to duty does not go smoothly.

It was unfortunate, James thought repeatedly, that he finally had an notion of what to do for Elizabeth at the very time he had no time to do it in. A months leave did not make his working days short. Leaving Fort Williams in the hands of Gillette and Groves had seemed as feasible enough solution before and though the men were more adequate as Lieutenant's – and perhaps alone might be efficient deputies; as a team it seemed they created more work than they got done.

He had solved the problem purely in the short term by sending Groves to do inventory aboard the Dauntless and Gillette to paperwork in the armoury. He wanted to hear not one more word about _seniority._ But work was familiar and none of it was difficult no matter how much of his time it swallowed up. He was finding to his annoyance that he had trouble concentrating on it as fully as he ought. As familiar as work was the fact remained that Elizabeth left to her own devices, (or more accurately under the supervision of a single servant who was herself subject to Elizabeth's orders,) was troubling. He was unused to working while distracted. Normally his thoughts were as ordered as his life. Though given the disarray that was his life since his marriage perhaps his thoughts were as ordered as could be expected.

It had started almost immediately after his return to work – on his first day he had returned home and enquired of the maid what Elizabeth had done with her day – when she had gotten up and what she had eaten. He had tried to wake her that morning – not to expect her to get up of course, but simply to perhaps say goodbye and wish her a pleasant day. Elizabeth had squirmed away and muttered something about the ghastly hour before burying her face in the pillow. He'd kissed her hair anyway a little amused at the fuss over being woken. Later he had tried to tell himself it did not mean she would return to attempts to spend her days abed just because he wasn't there. But by the time he came home he did not think it would harm to check. Perhaps it would not have done if Elizabeth had not overheard him. She'd been affronted not only by the question but by that he'd asked the maid what she had eaten. Then she had loudly told him exactly what she had done with her day and refused to speak to him after that.

 

The second day she had gotten up when he did despite his repeated attempts to convince her she need not. He had no idea how she spent her day because he did not ask either Elizabeth or the maid on his return from work but her early start had her drooping over dinner and she had given in on her own and went to bed early. She had been dead to the world when he joined her in bed and though it was a little amusing to see her rendered so peaceful by her own efforts the need for sleep only emphasised that she had not fully recovered, no matter what her opinion on the matter had been. The week had become a silent battle of wills with Elizabeth determined to take offence at his attempts to monitor what she did and James unwilling to apologise for his concern for her. 

And then half way through his second week back on duty he had returned home to find his wife was 'out.' The maid had seemed clearly nervous at having so little news to give him and Elizabeth's kitten had been so aggrieved at her abandonment that she had done serious damage to several pairs of shoes. Elizabeth's shoes, of course, because she was likely to abandon them about the house whenever she felt the need to go bare foot – his were put away and he did not have nearly as many pairs anyway. Although he asked the maid to inform him when she returned it seemed such a precaution was unnecessary as the clatter of Elizabeth's arrival was easily heard from his study.

 

She blinked up at him when he appeared at the top of the stairs, and looked slightly apprehensive. 'Is it that late?" Admittedly she also looked clearly surprised that he was home and when she put down her basket, he had descended the stairs and she came to kiss his cheek, "I lost track of time," she informed him. “I'm sorry.” Her hair was mussed - she hadn't worn a hat but her skin did not look overly flushed by the sun- she had merely acquired a touch of healthy colour.

James took her arm and led her into the sitting room, "perhaps," he said, "you might tell me about your day while we wait for supper." She fidgeted and said nothing for a long moment.

"I went into town," she said, "for a walk and to do a little shopping." This surprised him further because given Elizabeth's utter disinterest in both town and shopping when he has previously enquired, he has made no efforts to set her up with funds for this sort of excursion. He does not ask how she managed to shop, though he hoped it was something simple to remedy. She might have lines of credit under her father's name that James can arrange to pay, he doesn't like to think she would steal but disturbingly he can't dismiss the notion entirely. His thoughts on this are interrupted. "And then I went to my father's house." This at least he thought had potential, the quarrel between Elizabeth and her father had been troubling him – they had not spoken since she had had her outburst against presents but he could not see that lasting – her father doted upon her.

“How is your father?” he asked at once, eager to hear that things had been righted between them.

“I have no idea,” Elizabeth admitted, her tone more uncertain than James would like, “the staff said he was away on business so I can only assume he is well.”

James nodded, “I'm sure that is the case, it's not the first time he's been called away unexpectedly.” The second remark is intended to remind her that her father being away is surely not to avoid Elizabeth nor would the servants lie about it.

“I know that,” she remarked sullenly and he knew he had caused offence. “But normally I would know about it before I was turned away at the door.” James cannot contradict what he is certain is an exaggeration because Elizabeth had had enough of conversing it seemed and she stamped upstairs in a display of temper unlike any he has seen in some time. He determined he would give her some time to calm down before he tried again, as he considered this he saw the kitten peering at him from under a end table. Calypso hissed fiercely at him and made a half hearted attempt to swipe at his shoe before the little beast stalked haughtily out of the room and launched herself up the stairs in search of Elizabeth. The damn thing had managed to take after it's mistress in terms of temperament and James wondered if he should have got her a calmer pet. He can't quite make the notion stick even to himself – Elizabeth would have rejected it out of hand.

 

He did not even wait an hour in the end, and found Elizabeth in the library, she was not even pretending to read though she has pulled several volumes off the shelf if only to ignore them. The kitten is curled in a smug ball beside her feet and she seemed deep in thought. He cannot help but wonder – as he had on many occasions, just what she is thinking.

“Might your father have returned by the weekend,” he enquired in the end. If not he will return to his original plan and count these last couple of days as a minor set back.

“No,” she said in a small voice, “he is expected Tuesday next if all goes to plan.” 

"That is not so long to wait." James pointed out. "And it means that there is no reason why we should not go sailing at the weekend." This indication that he means to fulfil the promise has the immediate effect of having her attention at least as she stared at him for a long moment almost disbelievingly.

"Really?" The bright smile she gave him when he nodded is nearly worth it and he _had_ promised. She was not entirely recovered from her ordeal in his opinion but she is certainly more healthy than she was, an afternoon of excursion wouldn't hurt. Besides if he did not keep his word before his next tour, he would lose what faith she had in him and he knew that would not be long.

 

"I'll make the arrangements," he confirmed. "But for now I believe supper should be ready." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and heaved a sigh before she surprised him by heading downstairs without argument. She sent away the prepared meal and orders a bowl of broth instead. He had said she could chose her own meals but this does not seem like much nourishment if she has been out all day. He had the brief worry that setting a date for sailing that her eating habits would become erratic again. He reassured himself she will hardly be content with going only sailing once even if she should be ashamed to think bribing his wife is the only way to win her trust.

"Did you eat when you were out, Elizabeth?" he asked as she tasted the broth. He found it unlikely, a unaccompanied woman would not get served in any decent establishment and he doubted she had coin to buy from any of the vendors at market. Not that he wants her to be taking meals from such places - not that his opinion meant she wouldn't.

 "Yes," she said, after a moment. "They had Panama berries at the market." Although James is now wondering where exactly she had money for the purchase, he no longer has any concern that she hadn't eaten. He had seen first hand the amount of the small sticky sickly sweet fruit Elizabeth could consume, it had been once been her custom to climb a tree in her father's garden and help herself, only sparing the odd fruit to toss at passing servants or unsuspecting naval officers. It had been this behaviour that had earned Elizabeth her first much despised governess.

"I see," he said, suppressing a smile. "Well I hope you enjoyed them. I did not realise that-"

"I have money," Elizabeth said, just pre-empting his remark on credit and the unlikelihood that a market stall would offer it. "I'm perfectly entitled to spend it."

 

Back on the defensive then. Excellent. "I never said you were not," James kept his voice level, though it was not without effort. "Though I was unaware you had funds of your own. I did rather think you would want some pin money." 

"It was only a little bit," Elizabeth said, her cheeks suddenly high with colour, which made him wonder as she continued. "The odd sum my father gave me but I rarely needed it." James understood then the flush, he'd embarrassed her. Anything her father had established for her in savings would not be in coin she could spend in market and he could only think of one reason that she would keep secret a small stash of coin, as some unrealistic means of escape. Though the notion stings logic reasons she had abandoned the notion if she is spending it on fruit and he does mean to reassure her but he is not sure if he could address it without upsetting her further. But he did not get the chance in any case. She pushed the broth away and adds. "I did not know what marriage would be like," she explained. "And if it hadn't been you it would have been someone else. My father would have seen to it." It is not an untruth and she excused herself before he could think of a response.

 

As much as James could tell himself not to think on whatever mad scheme Elizabeth might have cooked up to escape marriage given that she has abandoned the idea, he could not help but wonder what she planned. He could not deny it stung that even as they wed and she barely seemed capable of thinking she had thought it necessary to escape him. It's pointless he knows to focus on this - she would never have gotten far and she didn't try anything but he had meant his vows. He had known Elizabeth had taken hers because she had little other choice but he hadn't realised she hadn't meant them.

He ended up wondering if there will ever be a time where his feelings for her would not be imposing on her or taking advantage of the circumstance she had found herself in. He'd thought they were growing closer but how much of that was her tolerating him because she must. When he retired for the night, he found that she had shut him out of her room which gave him pause and when he decided to at least check on her, he found she had gone one step further and locked him out of her room. For a moment he's relieved that he did not have to sleep beside her unsure of her true opinion of their marriage. But then his concern over took that - what if her nightmares returned. He retreated to his own room where he had been left a further message in the form of a small leather coin purse on his pillow. As if he had forbade her having money which had not been the point of their conversation at all. 

 

He slept poorly and started awake several times once going so far as to get out of bed go to her room and listen at the door to her room- he was relieved to hear no distress at least. When he woke in the morning uneasy and he had prepared for the day unable to not think of the massive step backward they had taken. He was startled to find Elizabeth dressed and in the front drawing room, seated on one of the lounges, playing with the kitten half heartedly, she looked pale and sluggish and he supposed there was little chance she passed an easy night on her own.  His concern for her pushed away any notion that this was her own fault and he went to join her, she glanced at him briefly and he noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and wondered if she slept at all. "You are up early," he said reduced once again to obvious commentary in pursuit of some sort of response from her that would give him some insight on how to proceed. 

"I thought I might get some fresh air," she claimed. "I have asked they set the breakfast table in the garden." As unconventional as this was James felt that gainsaying the first household decision Elizabeth had made could only hinder progress further so he nodded. 

"I'm sure that could be pleasant." he offered only to have her narrow her eyes at him as if she did not trust this easy agreement. Yet it was pleasant - Elizabeth ate a decent breakfast of fruit without his prompting. She had little to say - she looked a little more awake out in the the fresh air even if she was still drawn and pale. 

 

"Today I am going shopping for furniture." she told him suddenly. "And then I am going to draft some new menus." James nodded uncertain, he could only see these as good things but was unsure what about their latest misunderstanding had prompted an interest in household management. "I'll have them send the bills for the furniture," she added. "And then you need not enquire of the servants how I spend my time." 

James was now put on notice that the fact that she hasn't mentioned that in a week hadn’t meant she moved past  that particular grudge which in hindsight really had been foolish of him to think otherwise. He knew how stubborn she was. "Indeed," he said. "I would much prefer to hear such information from you."

She was nonplussed by this and irritated - he could tell. "You have a funny way of showing it," she told him. "You didn't even ask me - you just went straight to the staff." 

He could not deny it and though he could defend his decision he knew that would not improve matters. "I will direct all enquiries to yourself in future no matter how little you seem to like them." He had meant that sincerely but Elizabeth pushed away from the table and stamped into the house. 

 

He followed against his best judgement leaving her cat to leap on the breakfast table and start drinking milk from the jug. But James only had time for one problem right now and the cat was not it. Elizabeth had not gotten far, her temper outrun by her exhaustion. He had not thought of what exactly to say when she turned on him. "Why must every conversation by about what I ate or what I have done. Why can't you _see_ that I am much better. I thought you had until you went back to work and now it's just the same. You don't trust me." 

"On matters of trust you have little to complain," he pointed out. "What exactly were you planning to do with two guineas worth of coin if you hated marriage so much." 

Elizabeth paled and for a moment was quiet. "What does it matter - you have it now." When she fled the room he did not pursue her. 

He had meant to give the money back to her but in the end he left for the fort without doing so and spent the day in a foul mood. 

 

Elizabeth clearly had not been shopping when he arrived home though from the work laid out on the desk in the library - she had drafted several menu's and still looked exhausted. 

She looked up when he entered, though she was closed off and distant - which always caused him more concern than when she was ill tempered and sulky. “Dinner is to be served at seven,” she said. “I have already eaten. You are welcome to check with the staff if you like.” He didn’t dignify that last with an answer. She stood then and for once she seemed to struggle with something before she addressed him. “The money was never for hating marriage,” she said, her voice hesitant and it gives him pause - it’s so unlike her and he could only think of when they first came back and she was so unsure. Lately she has seemed certain of herself even if she was stubborn and foolish and would not take care of herself. “I wanted to not have any reminder of what happened,” she said finally Her hand drifted to her flat stomach and everything about her seemed to plead with him to not require her to explain further. “But I didn’t know how to find someone who would _help_ and then I didn’t need it anyway.”

He took her meaning immediately and it should be shocking to hear her frame it so but James thought back to her confession that she had wanted gin not the whisky and brandy she had drunk and and he cannot be surprised at the sentiment. How could she want a child conceived in such a circumstance - he had been beyond relieved for her when it turned out there would not be a child. It would not have been the child’s fault but Elizabeth had enough to deal with and while he could have loved the child for her sake - he though - he did not know what she would have felt. Or what he would have done if she had resented it. Yet still he can be relieved she had not found some way of poisoning or harming herself at the hands of some back alley abortionist offering solutions to the desperate.

He went to comfort her but she stepped away and he does not push it. “I am glad you did not take further risks with your health,” he said. It was the last thing she needed though she only looked irritated by his words - and at her look he decided to be clearer. “Glad that you did not _need_ to,” he amended. “But I understand the sentiment, Elizabeth. I do not want you to suffer anymore than you have.” This lessens the hostility of her look slightly and she bid him a quiet good night before she slipped past him and when he went to her room to check on her he was locked out again and he could hear her crying. He goes to dinner despite his lack of appetite and when he retired he notices her door has been unlocked and was ajar. It was a peace offering he was willing to take and was aware he would have to offer one of his own. But not tonight as Elizabeth appeared to be asleep though restlessly so. He joined her on the bed - on top of the covers again unable to stop himself being reminded of their wedding night. It felt very much as if they had started all over again but things got better before. They could again. If he can restore some sense of peace before he had to sail.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James begins to wonder if he has made things worse for Elizabeth

James lay awake for several hours after Elizabeth drifted into what seemed to be dreamless sleep. She looked so very young when asleep but then she was very young and today's revelations had James wondering if there was any way forward for them. He cannot help but remember that when he made his ever so awkward proposal, her impatient acceptance had made it clear she was accepting only so that she might attend the hangings of her attackers. They had discussed her ruined future but he thinks perhaps she did not care about that at all. Her words at the hanging had made her seemed pleased with the marriage - that it might have been something she had chosen had she had a choice but he thinks now that was all for show. Whatever she had said about the money and not wanting to escape marriage he cannot help but think that it is something she would have escaped if she could. How could he expect her to want anything from a marriage that had been forced on her by her assault.

He did not sleep well and when he woke the next morning to find Elizabeth awake and watching him. She looked uncertain but that was almost normal now. She reached for his hand and said in a very reluctant tone. “I’m sorry.” He wondered what for - her actions or her secret keeping or the temper that set them back again. She did not seem to want to expand on the apology though and given it is the first she’s offered him, he accepted the peace offering. He softly kisses her hand to show it, knowing that was an affection that does not seem to trouble her.

“As am I,” he said after a moment. “It is not my intent to rob you of your privacy." It was not the only thing he was sorry for but it was hardly the moment to share his doubts about their marriage. "Or your savings," he added wryly. "I'll return it and add your allowance." She had mentioned shopping. "But it is for your personal use - anything for the house should be billed to myself."

 

She looked startled by this change of subject and James excused himself to dress - she must have gone back to sleep or had other plans as she wasn’t at breakfast and James found it a relief which made him ashamed. He left her money on her desk where she had been planning menu’s the day before and set out for the fort, His day did not go quickly at the fort as reports while they required his focus could not distract him from the thought that he had done Elizabeth a disservice and trapped her into this marriage. It had not been his intent at all but that was no comfort if he had done it anyway.

 

This thought was still lingering when he returned home. Elizabeth was at home curled up on a lounge with a book and her kitten perched on her shoulder. She gave him a brief smile and then turned back to her book and James chanced coming to brush a kiss to her bright hair, ignoring the brief hiss he was offered from the kitten.

He sat by her and watched her read - feeling quite happy to just have her quiet company, though it does not take long before she fidgeted and moved the cat to her lap, set the book down and leaned against his arm. “I did not go shopping,” she told him. “But I had pastries for breakfast and scones with jam and cream for lunch.”

James slipped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s good,” he said mildly. It sounds rather sickly to him but he had said she could eat what she liked as long as she ate.

Clearly that was not what she wanted to hear as she stared up at him wide eyed. “Are you still angry?” she said and then in a much quieter beseeching tone. “Are we not to go sailing anymore?”

This at least explains the good behaviour. And probably even the apology this morning James thought rather cynically. “We’re still going sailing,” he assured her. “I gave you my word did I not.” He has not answered her first question something that is not lost on either of them.

“Yes you did,” she said and there was a note of defeat in her tone and then she added “I have kept my word too.”

 

It was true she had only thought about breaking the vows she’s been forced to and he forced himself to answer the question he had ignored. It was not her he was angry at - not really. “Yes, you have,” he said. “I am not angry with you Elizabeth.” That much was true at least - he was angry at himself and circumstance and perhaps frustrated and disappointed with her but not truly angry. She had never really had any choice about marrying him. Why should she not have her doubts and second thoughts. He offered her another brief kiss - this to her cheek. “I’ll let you get back to your reading,” he said. “I have some paperwork to finish up before dinner.”

 

She nodded and turned back to the book and cat not so much as looking as he leaves the room. James spent the time before dinner staring at the paperwork and getting nowhere with it.

He changed for dinner and found Elizabeth has done too - she didn’t always and he hadn’t pushed her on that bit of etiquette but the menu served tonight is clearly one of her devising. He’d seen it written out on the desk and he can certainly not complain at her choices even if they didn’t seem to tempt to her eat much. She was very quiet and she bid him goodnight after the meal. When he went to join her in bed she is curled up on the window seat reading and the book is abandoned on his arrival. He is surprised when rather than getting into bed she comes to his side and kisses him. She has kissed him before but this is bold for the bedroom where any contact they have had has almost been accidental or the result of waking close together.

He has never pulled away as he does not want to discourage her from whatever she is comfortable with but every previous encounter had been because things have been going well between them and that was certainly not the case at the moment. She wound her arms around his neck pressing herself close to him and it was all he could do not to step back completely uncertain as to what can have prompted this. But she pulled away herself then and got into bed turning down the lamp and waiting for him to do the same. She was eyeing him so carefully that James nearly lay atop the covers fearing some advance will be forthcoming but could not bring himself to reject her before it even happened so he got in bed with her, kissed her cheek and smoothed the covers over her. She did not move until he’d put out the lamp and then she was closer to him and asked in a quiet tone. “James, did you mean it - when you said you wanted me as long as it was what I wanted . . . and I was not drunk?” The words made his stomach sink because there was nothing she could say right now that would convince him she wanted him. This was probably an attempt to keep her word because she was feeling guilty for whatever plotting she has done.

“Of course I meant it,” he said. “But you mustn’t feel you need to rush anything Elizabeth or think you owe me anything.” There was a small soft sign in the dark and he knew his words were a rejection but he thought a less damaging one than allowing her to attempt to offer him her body when he would have to reject her fully or worse if he didn’t and he hurt her in someway with an attempt to bed her.

 

“I think we will have to go very slowly,” she said and he could nearly sigh with relief. “Do you think you could lie atop me and kiss me?” He lay there in silence stunned at the thought and unsure whether this is a sensible solution to allow her to get used to intimacy gradually or if a terrible notion that will only make it easier for her make it something she can tolerate because she felt she had to. His silence was taken the wrong way of course.

“I do not mean to lead you on,” she said in a very small voice. “I thought it might help me. To go slowly."

"Elizabeth," he said carefully. "You do not have to force yourself to allow me liberties. I can wait."

"No!" She said in a huff. "I am never just going to wake up one day comfortable with intimacy. To associate it with you and not what they did to me. I need you to help James."

She was crying now, he could hear it in her voice. And he reached over to comfort her only to have her bat his hand away.

"You are right," he said carefully. "I am sorry. Elizabeth, you must know I do wish to help you - there is just no need for you to pressure yourself so." She was sobbing hard now but did not resist when he reached out again to awkwardly pat her back. From there although she was already trembling from her tears she pulled herself close to him and kissed him, pushing her body full length against him. James did not pull away as he didn’t want to further upset her and yet he can feel that she was trembling with nerves and he felt slightly sick. But just as he thought to pull away she did stop shaking and the kiss immediately seems a deeper connection. So when she slipped her arms around him and rolled onto her back pulling at him - he let her. He hoped it helps that she was directing theses moves almost entirely. But it seemed not because she immediately began to tremble again and James felt ill. He had never been more ashamed of himself or less aroused as he pulled himself off her at once. Her breathing was panicked and uneven, sobs hitched in her throat and he rubbed at her back wondering if he should even touch her. "Elizabeth darling, I'm so sorry. Please don't cry." He felt slightly less as if he had assaulted her when she turned to him and began to cry into his nightshirt. He rubbed gently at her back, kissing her hair and swearing he would never touch her anyway she doesn't like.

 

"I'm sorry" she said in a whisper. "I want to want to. I really do. But I can't help remembering."

"That's alright." He told her. "You need to give yourself time. Elizabeth. There is no rush in anything."

This does not comfort her and she falls asleep in his arms still weeping quietly. James felt worse than ever - he had done this. He should have known better than to go along with this - she was only offering out of duty and now he had made it that much worse for her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Elizabeth go sailing and Elizabeth makes a demand of her husband.

The next morning she was already awake when he wakes, she was staring at the ceiling, her eyes red from crying though there are no sign of tears. The glassy staring look was familiar to him and he felt all the more foolish that he went along with her idea. Now she was frightened of him again. But then she reached for his hand and she held to him tightly for a moment before she let go and slipped out of bed. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said quietly, which surprised him as she normally never ate with him so early.

 

At breakfast she was properly attired, her hair loosely dressed, she made a concerted effort to eat breakfast. All of this surprised him, it was better than she managed most days and she had seemed so upset this morning and last night. She trailed after him after breakfast and he sat with her in the drawing room - he had a few minutes to spare and when they were alone with no staff, she finally spoke making clear why her behaviour was so normal this morning. “James, I do not want you to feel badly over last night,” she said reaching for his hand. “It was my idea - you thought it foolish to start and I am not upset now. Or frightened of you or feeling like I must allow you liberties.” She could read him startlingly well when she made the effort, he realised.

“I frightened you last night though,” he pointed out still feeling like an idiot for going along with her and worried she was going to insist that he do so again.

“Not really,” she said, with a casual shrug that was almost maddening because he assumed it was dishonest. She was not done yet though. “I’m never frightened of you James. I know you aren’t going to demand anything of me. I practically had to fling myself at you last night and when I’ve done so in the past you wouldn’t have it then. I was upset because I couldn’t forget. I’m afraid I might never be able to move past it. But I’m not frightened of you.” James couldn’t help being flooded with relief at her words even as there was the slight doubt this was another lie but accusing her would not help and he brushed a loose curl from her face. It was not complete relief - she was still so hurt but that she didn’t fear him was a weight off his shoulders. 

“I’m very glad,” he said. “I never want you to be frightened of me or afraid I will expect anything of you.” He leaned to kiss her and she did return the kiss but he saw her face fall just before he kissed her and he didn’t know what he said wrong. She bid him good day with another brief kiss to his cheek.

 

He pondered over it all day but was no further forward to an answer. Tomorrow he was taking her sailing though so he could only hope that will do something to cheer her. It was the only thing she had asked for in their whole marriage. That evening Elizabeth was quiet still and the thought of sailing only seems to lift her spirits when he directly referenced it. When it came to time to retire, she was in bed when he came to her and after a long moment of hesitation she asked him to sleep elsewhere rather indirectly.

“I have not had nightmares in some time,” she said. “I think I will be fine to sleep alone if you wish to return to your own room.” He could only assume that she wished this and he further assumed that when she said she wasn’t frightened of him that was a lie if she wished to sleep apart from him.

He slept poorly and got up twice to check on her - she was sleeping peacefully each time and at least she had not locked him out again.

 

At breakfast the next day she had chosen a plain dress and her excitement was plain. James had already decided it will be more than a trip out. Once they have boarded the small cutter and he had taken them out to sea - he shows her knots and the beams and how to steer the small boat. The lessons clearly interested her and she barely allowed him to demonstrate anything before she was seizing the instrument or rope or tiller to have a go herself. He allowed this as long as her enthusiasm did not put them at risk.

 

When he had tied the ropes to allow them to cruise a little - they had a good wind and the sun was bright and the boat cut through the waves. Elizabeth insinuated herself into his arms and settled there - she spent a long time staring out at the horizon and he wondered what she was thinking. What she wanted.

He sailed for as long as he dared but he did not want to go to far out or stay out too late. Her disappointment when he finally puts his foot down and insists they head back to shore was palpable and for a moment he was prepared to deal with an argument but to his surprise she does not make a fuss. Instead asking if she could help as he turned the boat for home. When they pulled in he showed her to how tidy the sails and then helped her back onto the dock making sure she was steady on her feet and then leaping out of the cutter himself.

 

“We can come again,” he assured her and her smile was breathtaking.

“I’d like that,” she told him. “Very much. Thank you for today James. It was wonderful.”

He had no reason to think that her words are not genuine. She was clearly happy today and the outing was the only thing she had asked of him in their entire marriage that he thought she actually wanted. (The demand to attend the hangings predating the wedding and the attempt at intimacy being a misguided offering to please him.) It gave him some hope there was something he could do to please her and an idea for her upcoming birthday.

 

Yet he could almost see the enthusiasm drain away as they head home and by the time they have their evening meal Elizabeth was back to being pensive, though she seemed to have a much better appetite than normal and was clearly overtired. By the time they’d finished dessert she was suppressing a yawn and retired very soon after dinner. As with last night when he checked on her there certainly seemed no barrier to her sleeping alone – she seemed peaceful if utterly dead to the world and James told himself he would respect her privacy from now on.

 

Sunday was a relatively peaceful day as it usually was. They have not attended services since their marriage and James had found himself unwilling to harangue Elizabeth about it for all the talk it would bring. She spent the day studiously avoiding him without saying so moving from garden to house and whatever she was doing she seemed quite settled until he joined her at which point she instantly found something else to do trailed by the ever adoring kitten who seemed to dislike him more day by day. James reminded himself it was not possible to train cats in who they like. But if she wanted privacy he could give her that and he spent the day in his office even going so far as to take lunch in there and left her to her own devices until dinner. She was perfectly civil to him. Immediately after she joined him and he was hopeful for a short moment. A very short moment as after she sat by him she leant into kiss him. This immediately became apparent that it was another attempt to be _comfortable_ as she near scrambled in his lap to make the kiss more intent. He moved her off him. “Elizabeth,” he said “This isn’t necessary.” He was unable to prevent his bodies reaction to having her close and he was rather desperate she not realise she roused him. It would only encourage her to offer him things she was not ready for.

“No,” she said. “Nothing I do is.” She went to bed on her own again and James did not check on her - a real test of his own self control but he had said to himself he would give her privacy and he meant to stick to it. The next morning while she did not get up with him in the morning, he did wake her briefly to tell her he’d be late that night and would eat at the fort so she needn’t hold dinner. She nodded sleepily and turned away from him with a grumpy murmur which made him grin for a brief moment. At least half asleep she was always honest with him. But he wasn’t smiling for long - she was unhappy and he hated that but he did not understand why his reluctance to force intimacy she wasn’t ready for was something she should be upset about. Nor did he get a chance to pursue the matter as Elizabeth was asleep by the time he got home that night, her cheeks and pillow damp with tears.

 

When he returned from work on Tuesday, she was hovering waiting for him in the hall which was certainly unusual. He was offered a brief smile but she was clearly anxious and he pressed a kiss to her hair, he wanted to be reassuring without pressuring her. “Is something amiss, Elizabeth.” She shook her head, looking rather lost still and he was about to challenge this when she blurted out.

“I saw my father today,” James was rapidly losing patience with his father in law and he guided Elizabeth to sit in the drawing room.

“Did you quarrel?” he asked refraining from adding _again_ but only just. Why the man could only offer presents and not the comfort his daughter clearly needed James did not understand. He could understand the Governor’s distress over what happened to Elizabeth but why was his own denial of Elizabeth’s experience more important than her peace of mind.

“No!” she denied. “I apologised and he has forgiven me for my behaviour.” James was at once pleased and concerned to hear this - it was a step forward and yet he had rather assumed that their conversation would be slightly more complicated. Elizabeth was owed an apology too surely. “I tried to explain,” she said, “why I was angry but I couldn’t make him see so I just said I was sorry and now I am forgiven.” She also sounded utterly defeated and he reached for her hand.

“I am sorry if your father did not listen to you,” he said. This earned him a shrug but she was clearly upset and frustrated and not hiding it so he pressed on. “And I am sorry if you feel I am not either, Elizabeth - I know I am upsetting you because I will not press you but I cannot apologise for that.” He paused and tried to think of how to explain this without upsetting her further. “I know you dread being treated differently because of what happened, but I can assure you if we had wed under any other circumstance I would be no more inclined to force anything from you or that I was entitled to expect anything from you because we are wed.”

 

“No.” Elizabeth said. “I am not a fool James. I know you are not a man who would would never demand anything from me intimately,” she paused, “I would never have married you if I thought that, even if no-one else would have me. It isn’t that.” She was quiet for a long moment and was clearly struggling for words. “The other day,” she said. “You said you would never expect anything from me. And I would like - I would like you to expect something from me. Not _for_ me - not the normal fuss about eating and getting up but expect something of me as your wife. Whether it’s affection for you or something for the house or to be more social. Just something I can do to feel like this whole marriage is not a sacrifice on your part.”

“I assure you it is not,” he told her. There was one thing he would ask of her but he was fairly sure it would be considered more fuss and so he didn’t say it. “Of course I expect that you will run the house and our social calendar eventually but there is no expectation on when - I do not want you to feel pressured by expectations.”

“And the rest,” she muttered which made him flush and say nothing because either way she would be annoyed. But she was not done. “There is something,” she said. “I can tell.”

“Alright,” he said. “You may think this is not for me and that I am only fussing over you. But I would worry a great deal less when I sail if you would consent to stay with your father.” Elizabeth sighed at this request but did not immediately say no. “I know things are difficult between you currently,” James added, knowing this request makes things more even awkward.

“No,” she said. ‘It might be easier to get him to see what I mean if I am there and,” she paused because this was a clear admission of her weakness before the wedding. “And I am more myself. So I will ask my father if I can stay and I imagine he will allow it and spend another load of money on me while trying to pretend nothing ever happened.” She got up then. “But in exchange you will think of something I can do for you. An expectation you would have from the woman you have married. Something I can do to make you see I am your wife not your ward. So you think about that James Norrington.”

Of all the things that have surprised him about this marriage, James did not think he would ever get over the amount of scolding that being considerate of her seemed to have earned him.

 

On the way into dinner he thought he had came up with something but she anticipated him saying he was welcome to share her bed again if he should like and that couldn’t be his expectation, which knocked that idea on the head. He considered asking her to not eat sweets for every meal but couldn’t even say to himself that was for him.

That night he joined her in bed, and asked her to rise early to breakfast with him once or twice a week. “I’ve done that before,” she told him. Then she pointed out it’s a married woman’s privilege to breakfast in bed. before finally she agreed to rise early once a week and he could have a later breakfast with her of a weekend but she refused to count it as his expectation of her. Then she cuddled in close to him and fell asleep on his chest and he didn’t think she could possibly be that tired but she did seem genuinely asleep. He supposed he should be glad she wasn’t trying to encourage him to force intimacy on her. He still had no idea of anything he could ask of her that wouldn’t make him feel as he if was taking the most base advantage of her.

The next day she got up and breakfasted with him as promised. She didn’t even look overly tired given she was asleep long before he was. But just before he left for the day she caught up to him at the door to offer him a kiss pulling away after a long moment. “James,” she said quietly. “I do not mean to be difficult. But do you not think there should be something you would like of me? Just one thing. I have asked so much of you.” She kissed his cheek and bid him a good day, leaving him to head to the Fort with much on his mind.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth continue to push James to treat her as his wife.

That night over dinner, Elizabeth looked hopeful but James was no further forward to thinking of something he can ask of her. There were things he wanted of course, he was not that selfless but none of them are things he wanted from her because he has asked for them. In the end he has picked something she must do without him and he wavered between thinking of it as something he should not feel badly over and as if he was throwing her to the wolves alone. He was well aware of how well her last outing went but how could the hanging have gone anything but badly. And he wants this more for her than himself which would only annoy her unless he phrased it entirely correctly.

She was fussing over the  sweet course when he brought it up. “I have been thinking about your request,” he said. “And what I would like from you.” She looked at him wide eyed then and there was fear there which stings - why is she insisting on this if it frightened her so. “I have missed attending society events,” he said. “I am not sure there will be time to accept any invites before I sail, but when I am back I would like us to attend at least some of the ones we are invited to.” Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks suddenly bright and her face unsure. “And,” he adds ploughing on relentlessly. “While I am away I feel it would be beneficial if you were to attend some of the invites you receive on your own, rather than always having to have me at your side - it will give you some of the experiences that you would have had after your debut.”

 

Elizabeth nodded and her voice was near a tremble when she asked, “How many do I have to attend?” His stomach turned over and he felt _awful_ , pushing back his chair to go to her side.

“You do not have to attend any,” he assured her. “You have to do nothing that makes you uncomfortable, Elizabeth, I promise, this is a request that is all. All I want is for you to find one thing you’d like to attend each week and if you feel up to attending you should go but not if you don’t feel like it.”

She was visibly calmed by this. “And if I go,” she said “How long do I have to stay?” He kissed her forehead, of course strictly speaking if she attended an event it was good manner to attend the whole thing but he won’t push it.

“As long you are comfortable,” he said. “I am sure you can contrive some way of needing to leave early without disgracing yourself.” This made her blush.

“Alright then,” she said. “I can do that. But when we attend events together I shan’t dance with anyone but you.” This was dreadfully improper but if anyone can be excused it is newlyweds so he did not push it.

“I look forward to standing up with you,” he assured her which surprised her into laughing and then kissing him sweetly.

 

That night in bed, she was sitting up looking rather pensive - the night rail she had worn for sleeping in has the ribbon it fastens with unwound leaving it open nearly to her waist giving him a view of a narrow strip of pale skin which gave him pause.

When he gets in bed, she tugged at his night shirt and he lets her unfasten it a little, wondering just when he was going to have to tell her to stop. But she cuddled in close to him slipping one hand onto his chest to rest over his heart and did nothing more. He put out the lamp and slipped one arm around her trying not to dislodge her or her touch which seems innocent enough. When he woke in the morning, he found that in the night she had shifted his hand, settling it over her heart the way she had touched him and while part of him wants to tell her to stop such things, she was fast asleep despite his hand on her chest and he was glad to see her so calm.

He shifted his hand off her regardless and pulled her close to him pressing a kiss to her hair, she grumbled a little before cuddling close and settling again. It was only when she woke a few moments later and sat up that what was no doubt inevitable with her loose shift happened and it slipped down one shoulder and exposed her on one side, James had not shifted from the bed and he couldn’t help but see the slim pale curve of her breast before he averted his eyes to let her cover herself  but she did not.  In fact she was too busy watching him and she looked so hopeful that informing her this is not required seems harsh. She covered herself in the end, her hope clearly dashed. “I wish I could make you see me,” she said quietly.

“I do see you,” he assured her, still not sure of what she wanted there. He leaned into kiss her careful to keep his weight off her and save her that panic. She held tightly to him, and there is something in her expression when he pulls away, a hint of desire perhaps if he was not being overly hopeful. She pulled him close for another kiss and then pushed him back down to the bed. She stretched herself over him and kisses him again and there was no trembling, no shaking and no hint of fear so James let it carry on even though he knew he shouldn’t. In fact it carried on until he forgot himself enough to slip his arms round her to hold her close even though he knew he shouldn’t, that holding her in any fashion may frighten her.

 

She made a small soft sound against his mouth and squirmed and somehow he knew that was not fright - nor can he allow her to keep squirming against him without her seeing how much he wanted her. He sat up lifting her as he did only to end up depositing her in his lap when she wriggled and he had to let her go. Now his arousal was only entirely o obvious and he was terrified he had scared her - but she blinked at him and smiled knowingly. For she looked older than her age instead of younger. That was entirely a woman’s smile curving her lips - not a child’s. “You do _want_ me,” she said delightedly as she slipped out of his lap and he blushed. “And soon I will make you see me too.” She announced as she curled back into the covers making herself comfortable and looking deliciously smug. He decides not to argue on that point right now.

“Oh no,” he said teasingly pulling at one ankle before she can get settled. “You’re awake now, up you get, you can have breakfast with me today.”

 

She laughed and sat up, her gown slipping again. “Well, aren’t you demanding this morning?” she teased with a smile. She stood and he pulled her close for a kiss and she took his hand firmly in hers and pressed it to her until he had a handful of soft warm flesh. He let himself be and shifted his hand to cup her bare breast, brushing the nipple very briefly, pulling away as she gasped to raise an eyebrow at her. She has the grace to blush. “I like it,” she tells him. “You being demanding. You should do it more often.” Then she slipped her gown off the other shoulder and stood before him utterly bare for a moment before she crossed to behind the screen to slip on a proper shift. “Go on then,” she said, knowing he had watched, pride in her voice. “Out with you - I have to ring for my maid if I’m to dress for breakfast.”

James found himself glad he has never bothered with a valet and he can be alone after that. It took him sometime more than usual to dress - as he had to push himself to not think on  the sight of her pert backside marching away or the memory of her squirming in his lap. It was a dangerous game wanting more - he was determined to put her first but she was always pushing. He’d hate to forget himself and frighten her all over again.

 

The breakfast went well and Elizabeth was more animated than she has been in some time. Her triumph in both pushing him into touching her and finding him aroused by her have her bright and merry and she even ate a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast before she started drowning her pastries in preserves.

When she came to the door to farewell him, he took a chance by kissing her much more firmly than he usually would and tis thrilled when when she responded in kind clutching at the lapels of his jacket.

“Hurry home,” she tells him mischievously waving him off. Her smile brightened his whole day.

 

That evening they had another menu of her devising which he made sure to comment on his approval of. She asked him to retire early and he found himself eager to do so even if he is not entirely convinced on the sense of it.

She had a new plan for that evening where she sat in his lap and directed his hands asking him to touch her breasts, her backside, her legs. He did exactly as she asked when she asked and stops whenever she paused to think. Between the feel of her and the sight of her squirming and pleading and gasping - James was harder than he’d ever been in his life which he knows she could feel. When she asked him if she could touch him, he nodded without even thinking about it. She had barely touched him - her hand skimming over him as he jerked his hips thrusting into her grip - it barely takes him three thrusts and he spilled in her hand and bit back a groan and and flushed as Elizabeth blinked at him and horrifies him by closely examining the mess on her hand until he snatched it and wiped it on the covers. “Did I do it wrong?” she asks looking so baffled that he pulls her close for a kiss. 

“No sweetheart - I just didn’t need much help after  an hour of you wriggling in my lap.” she blushed pink then and turned shy suddenly before he realised just how foolish he’d been to not tell her how well she had done. “I liked that very much,” he told her - though he hoped she would not get ideas about expectations. “Though it can’t have been as fun for you.” he went on. Then hesitantly he asked. “Do you think I could please you without making you uncomfortable?”

 

There was one part of he has noticeably not been instructed to touch as his hands wander and he was not sure he can properly please her without touching her in a way that may very well make her uncomfortable. But to his surprise, she nods once a little uncertainly. He played with one nipple a little first while he kissed her until she squirmed. But when his hand slowly slipped to between her legs he pulled his mouth away so she speak if she needs to. She was wet but she looked uncomfortable nearly the instant he touched her which made him freeze and even as he did she reached for his hand to stop him. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to, I’m sorry.” She looked very much like she might cry and he felt awful. It was his responsibility to look after her and not let this get this far.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “We never have to do anything you don’t want to.” She curled into his chest and for a moment he held her close relieved she seemed to want that he held her and pressed a kiss to her hair. After a moment though she struggled and he let her pull away feeling guilty all over again.

“It did feel good,” she said after a moment, lying down by his side. “But I didn’t like it.”

“Did it make you think of - what happened before?” he asked - he wasn’t sure if he should push but then leaving it was seemed hardly likely to help.

“No,” she said vehemently - “nothing that happened then felt good.” Her tone was derisive and he smoothed her hair -he had said the wrong thing again. “It was too much,” she told him which does not help him entirely but she was not done. “I didn’t know what you meant,’ she said finally. “About it being fun for me or pleasing me. I just said yes because it seemed to be going well.” That stung more than a little and worried him which must show.

 

“Not that I didn’t want to feel good.” she explained. “But I didn’t even know it could be nice,” she said finally. “My governess said - well she was very uncomplimentary about the whole business and I thought - well I thought I had some idea about the mechanics of it.” She shifted away again sending a burst of worry through him. “But even without being forced I didn’t see how it could be pleasant.” She pulled a rather expressive face that conveyed every bit of dubiousness a young woman might have about intimacy. He was both baffled and grateful for her upfront talk - he did not know where she was going with this but at least she was being honest and it was certainly not anything he could have puzzled out on his own he knew.

Elizabeth carried on. “So I all I wanted was from intimacy is for me not to remember _before_ and for it not to hurt.” She looks at him and shrugged. “That seemed achievable,” she said. “Even if not the most romantic way to look at it.” He is then given the rather damning consolation. “And I wanted you to like it, of course” she said patting at his hand in a gesture of comfort that bemuses him all the more. “But I never thought I might be expected to like it or to enjoy it.” She seemed rather worried about this which he was more than a little lost about.

“Expected to?” he asked finally. “Do you not want to enjoy intimacy Elizabeth?” He was dismayed when he shakes her head.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said quietly. “Perhaps I could like it with practice - but _you_ won’t want to have me until I’m going to like it and I don’t think I can like it until I’ve lain with you and seen it doesn’t have to be awful. But you’re never going to have me unless I’m already there.”

“Yes,” he said appalled at the idea she might one day like intimacy if he just took advantage of her until she was used to it. “I’m sure if I was willing to force you to lie with me, you might eventually move from trauma to tolerance. You will have to forgive me that I am not.” Her eyes filled with tears and he regretted snapping at once pulling her close and kissing her hair. “Elizabeth if you don’t want to lie with me why are you so focussed on it. How can I convince you, you are more important to me than this.”

 

She curled in his arms and sniffed. “I want to be normal. I want to be a proper wife. I want you to see me as your wife and it’s the only thing I can think of that will do that.” 

“You are a proper wife,” he said. “I do see you as my wife, I promise you. You are normal.” He paused. “Many women find it distasteful,” he said finally. “Even with their husbands and if you had found that you did not like it under normal circumstances I would not be insisting you share my bed.” He hoped under normal circumstances he might be more persuasive but James would never have dreamed on insisting on any kind of marital duty in that fashion.

Elizabeth looked a little deflated there. “But I like sharing your bed,” she said in a small voice. “And I like the other bits,” she added before he can assure that she could share his bed without sharing any thing else. “So I probably would have liked it. So it’s something else they took from me.” 

He cannot deny that but he pulled her close. “How you feel now,” he said, “will not be how you feel forever.”

“But I want to feel good now,” she said in a huff and he paused, there was a definite hint of frustration there but she had asked him to stop. 

“Would you like to try again?” he said. “Feeling good?” She bit her lip and he can tell the answer was at least partly yes but she shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I said I didn’t like it.”  

“But you said it felt good,’ he pointed, out trying to understand where he was failing here.

 

“But if I like it,” Elizabeth returned quietly. “How can I say I don’t want . . . what comes next.” James pulled away from her then, wondering if he was understanding her right - did she really believe that if they manage to find something intimate she enjoys he’ll be demanding whatever else he fancies - she looks down looking shy. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I know you won’t say I have to want it. But how can I want one and not the other? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” James told her letting one hand slip back to her thigh and tease up a little and leaning into kiss her. “But I would like very much to give you something you do like, Elizabeth.” She paused - she looked so unsure and given her brazen confidence still startled him in so many areas in defiance of all expectation he hated the uncertainty on her face even more .

“Well if you would like it, James” she said ungraciously. He hated that a little bit too - he wanted it to be about her but if she needed that to justify it to herself then he would have to live with it and he nodded as his hands slip between her legs. He could tell not as excited as before but it doesn’t seem as much of a shock to her which was perhaps a good thing. He does kiss her a little but then presses his face into her neck so she could protest if she wanted to. She doesn’t - though her breath races with tiny gasps of pleasure that have him desperate to make this happen for her.

James dropped his mouth to her breasts suckling on one nipple then the other then glancing up at her. She has her eyes tightly closed but her rosebud mouth is open as she squirmed against his hand. When she arched her hips against his touch, she cried out very briefly then shuddered and bit her lip hard and then hid her face away from him, pushing his hand away as she curled into the pillow. James lay beside her trying to give her a moment but the aftershocks of what he hoped was pleasure soon become real sobs and he felt awful as he tucks the blankets around her not daring to touch her - not even in reassurance. But then she turned into his arms and clung to him and he was so so glad. Whatever missteps he had taken he had not made her unable to turn to him. He held her as she cried feeling like the worst sort o cad - he should have left her be. When she calmed, she kissed him good night briefly but ignored him when he asked if she was alright before she pretended very hard she was asleep until it became true. James however lay awake half the night condemning himself for a fool for pushing her.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth celebrates her birthday before James' has to go to sea.

James’ worry over Elizabeth did not abate. She would not tell him why she was so upset and he did not want to push her. He would not take anything she did not want to give and that includes her reasons. She was allowed privacy in her thoughts.

The next two nights she wants nothing more than kisses from him but she did not seem shy of him and he did not want to focus on her embarrassment or her response - not if it upset her so they carry on like that. He was happy to leave such things in her hands especially when it meant she was not pushing him for more that he isn’t even sure she actually wanted.

 

The third night however he came to bed to find her lying atop the covers entirely naked. He couldn’t even say she was waiting for him because she’s touching herself and making soft noises that have him worried for his self control. She did not stop when she saw him instead telling him, “I can’t do it myself.”

James had a brief mental image of his wife spending her days abed touching herself intimately and felt he should retreat - he was in over his head here as he imagined reaching for her hand and showing her how he had touched her as he watched her fingers ghost over herself, watched her bite her lip. She was so beautiful nude and he cannot help but look at her as he tried desperately to summon some self control. His seemed dangerously absent of late.

Elizabeth blinked up at him then and said as bold as brass. “I thought it would be easier to get used to on my own. It was so overwhelming - but it doesn’t happen - is that how it’s meant to work?” James pulled back concern warring with that mental image combined with a hint of worry that she felt like she had to practice - she had never indicated she liked or wanted this. Not even when she had climaxed. But then she looked at him eyes wide, “and I did not know it would feel so good.” There was a note of longing in her voice that decided things for him.

 

So he sat beside her on the bed and shifted her into his lap and slipped his hand down to cover her own. He showed her how he had touched her, his fingers guiding hers in careful slow circles and when she whimpered he showed her how to speed her touch and this time when it happened she cried his name her head thrown back against his chest and her cheeks flush. She lay boneless in his arms for a long moment and then turned to him her cheeks still pink and kissed him. James was so relieved she was not upset he responded eagerly until she broke the kiss.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice and then she turned away and curled up naked except for the covers and went to sleep leaving James aching with need and reminding himself he had told her repeatedly she did not have to offer him anything and he would not regret that she had actually listened for once. She had seemed desperately unsure and he was sure he had done the wrong thing again.

 

He woke before her the next morning and tucked her in so she could rest while he dressed for work, he left her nightgown on his pillow so she could avoid scandalising the maid if she wanted to. He brushed a kiss to her forehead. The night before had left him cautiously optimistic for her recovery – she had been pleased and had not felt she needed to offer him anything but at the same time he could still damn himself for letting it get to that point.

 

* * *

Elizabeth was in the garden when he came in - she was painting and had a smudge of paint on one cheek. Her painting was an attempt at the Dauntless - her sense of perspective was off somewhat but there was  hint of talent that was hidden when she was painting gore.

“Another painting for my study?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” she said. “But perhaps I will present a version to you when I manage one I like.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t want a skewed ship,” James thought he would though if she gave it to him but he knew saying that would be pressing her overmuch.

“Would you like more paint?” he said. “You seem quite dedicated to your art.” He was sure she could have very little red left even if it had been sometime since she painted a hanging.

“If I want more paint, I will buy it with my allowance,” Elizabeth snapped huffily. “Don’t act like I am incompetent James.” Then she turned away from him. “Please excuse me - I have a letter to write.” She left the painting and the easel in the garden and turned on her heel heading toward the house, leaving him baffled.

 

Over dinner she told him she had had tea with her father, invited him for dinner and asked his permission to stay with him when James sailed which he had granted.

“I’m glad,” he said. “And hope it improves things between you and your father.”

She did not seem convinced and retired after dinner. Her door was closed to him when he goes to bed and he worries for a long time before telling himself it was not invading her privacy to bid her goodnight.

 

She was sat in the window seat of her room, in a simple shift, her hair loose and her pretty face soaked with tears and James cannot bear it. “Elizabeth?” he said. And then was lost for words. He cannot ask her if everything was alright. They both know it was not. This must be his fault - he let things go to far. “Is there anything I can do.” She wiped at her face and shook her head.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you,” she said archly. And that was pointed because she had avoided him.

“No, I only wanted to say good night,” he said.

She slipped out of the window seat and came across to press a kiss to his cheek. He managed to resist the urge to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Goodnight,” she said stiffly and proved him a liar, when he cannot bear to walk away from her.

“Elizabeth -if I have upset you . . .” he began - he had to try something.

“No,” she said. “No it is not you James and it is not what you showed me it is only. . .” she sighed. “Well I suppose it is what you showed me. It was easier to deal with when I thought it wouldbe awful.” She retreated from him. “Before it was like they took something I was supposed to give to you or some other man my father found to take me. But now I know . . . I can’t help wonder what they really took from _me_ – what it could really have been like and I’m never going to know and I wish you could hang them all over again.”

“You will know,” he said quietly only for her to scoff.

“No,” she said. “Perhaps eventually I could can persuade you I am better or ready or whatever else it is you are waiting for,” she sneered. “But that is not the same. I will never know what it is to be properly be with someone out of love. And it is not _fair_.” And then she was crying again and he went to hold her with caution unsure if that would be foolish or not but unable to help himself. His heart broke for her a little. It was not fair. He would not let himself focus on how much her words hurt - she had no choice in marrying him. It was not her fault if she cannot care for him that way. She pushed him away. “Stop it,” she said. “I know it is not your fault.”

James was lost for words. He might easily have called how he felt for her love if his feeling for her did not seen like it might frighten her. But if she did not care for him there was little he could do about that. “Elizabeth I would do whatever it took to make you happy,”

“Of course you think that,” she said tiredly. “You can go. I prefer to sleep alone.”

 

* * *

 

It became clear after that this was what she expected from their life. She would accompany him to parties. Be polite at dinner with her father. Promise to behave when he was at sea. And show him nothing of her true self.

 

Her sixteenth birthday was just the week before he was due to sail. He had at first been glad he would not miss it but he was not sure how much she would care that he was present. James had purchased her presents but cannot imagine them going over well. The necklace was pretty and the books are ones of her interest - he had thought that at least having her own copy of the Seaman’s grammar might make her smile. He had thought of taking her sailing but he had not been sure if she would want to be alone with him. She was so withdrawn and miserable that he thought perhaps it was good he was going away. Perhaps she would prefer to be with her father. Nothing he said seemed to cheer her at all.

Still he gave her the presents after breakfast and she thanked him politely if insincerely barely glancing at the books. She wore the necklace to the dinner her father hosted for her – the Governor’s presents are more extravagant than James’ but they are just as popular. Elizabeth barely touched her food despite her father having all her favourite things served. Her father tried hard to jolly her out of her mood

“It will be nice to have you home,” the Governor told her while she pushed apple dumplings round her plate. “I am so happy you are well settled, of course but I do miss you.”

“Do you?” she said gloomily.

“Of course,” her father said said sharply and James gave him a warning look. He did not care if he owed the man his respect - he would not let him berate her. The Governor softened. “I know I have been busy lately, Elizabeth but I promise I will make time for you when you are home.” This did make Elizabeth look slightly hopeful and James relaxed a little. She had not seemed at all keen on this request of his and if her father could at least pay attention to her at least that would not put any pressure on her like he seemed to just be virtue of their connection.

 

In the carriage home she took his arm and rested her head on his shoulder so he took a chance and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I will miss you,” she said. “When you are away.” James burns with hope all over again.

“I will miss you too,” he said and she nodded an acknowledgement.

“Yes,” she said. “Because I am such good company.” The carriage had pulled up now and Elizabeth let herself out and ran in the house without looking back at him. James followed her in but decided not to chase her down and correct her. She would not believe him and scolding her would not improve matters.

 

The next night however she joined him in his room. “I am sorry,” she said. “I should not have snapped yesterday - I wanted to ask you for something and I could not get up the nerve.”

James was only worried about why she was here but nodded.

“I would like to consummate our marriage before you go away,” she said. “I know I made a fuss. About love. You must think me ridiculous. And so ungrateful. I know you will not hurt me and that it will be different than before when I want to and I do.”

James knew he should refuse her. He had seen no sign at all that she was at all interested in him but she comes close to him and blinked up at him innocently. “Please,” she said. “It _is_ my birthday.”

He would have once said he would not have refused her anything reasonable but this was not. Yet he could also seethat refusing her here would not help matters between them.

 

So he led her to his bed, James trying desperately to suppress his doubt and Elizabeth being bold in a way he prayed was not forced. He was determined to make this good for her in whatever way he could. He did not remove her night gown - he wanted her to feel comfortable. And he spent a long time touchingher gently, urging her towards her pleasure when she was nearly there he slipped a finger inside of her only for her to whimper and close her eyes.

He worried until she arched with a small sigh and clenched on him and he added another finger stretching her a little – his previous attempts to please her have not included this but if she should panic at him being inside her in any way he wanted to know before they go any further. He teased until she spent against his hand, calling his name in a breathy voice that had him filled with arousal even if he was ashamed of himself.

He was still not sure this was the correct course no matter how set on it she was and he gave her a chance to calm after. If they are going to do this - he could only pray she was truly ready - he wanted her clear headed. Well as clear headed as Elizabeth was ever going to be.

 

 

She curled her arms around him and kissed his neck. “It’s alright,” she said. “I want you James, truly.” And he took a deep breath and took her at her word.

When he pressed inside her - he could havespent immediately from the wet heat of her and only the thought of disappointing her so throughly let him summon the self control not to. He wanted more than anything to move but he couldn’t instead holding her close and willing her to be alright.

But then she was blinking up at him and seemed confused but then she pulled him down for a kiss. “You can move James,” she said. “It’s alright.” But he couldn’t - if he moved now he would last no time at all and he bent to kiss her while he struggled for self control.

 

She squirmed a little when he moved and he halted instantly. She seemed while not traumatised fairly detached from proceedings and James was about to pull away when she arched under him. James closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Elizabeth are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” she interjected, cutting him off and she did sound more annoyed than upset.She then sighed sounding put upon which while unflattering at least did not indicate upsetand he shifted against her. His breath quickened and while he did not want to embarrass himself he saw little point in trying to last when she was so detached.

James groaned her name when his climax hit him and he stilled before pulling away so his weight did not land on her. The instant he moved off her she looked delighted which was not as reassuring it could have been. There was no way she enjoyed that. At least something had pleased her even if the act itself seemed to mostly bore her. “See,” Elizabeth said pointedly snuggling into him. “I can do it.” It did not help his temper. That she had tackled this in such a manner but it was a relief she was not upset.

 

He did not answer at first - he feels foolish for going along with her, like he had taken advantage of her despite it being her idea. But he did not want to scold - she was so easily upset and he did not want things to get _less_ intimate between them.

His silence did as much damage though as after a long beat of silence she asked hesitantly. “Did you not like it?” There was not even a pause for him to answer before she carried on in a ramble. “I know I am not - was not unspoilt. But you knew that when you married me. Does it make such a big difference?” Her voice was getting smaller and he knew he had to reassure. To put her first. To swallow his resentment that she had forced herself to this despite his repeated attempts to be patient.

“It makes no difference,” he said pulling her into his arms. “You are not spoilt or ruined or any of that other nonsense. What happened to you was not your fault. I regret what happened to you - for you. Not because of what I wanted.”

 

Elizabeth snuggled close and he could feel the relief in her. He was relieved he did not have to say he liked it. It would only encourage her. So he said nothing and hoped once was enough - she wanted to prove herself. She’d done that, and hopefully would leave it be now.

She seemed content enough until the night before he sailed where she fussed about giving him a proper farewell. James told her he wanted to touch her and sat her in his lap exploring her. When she tried to fuss about laying with him he kissed her and teased her to climax and then some more until she reached for him in retaliation and he spent in her hand ending that argument by pretending to be embarrassed by his lack of self control rather than relieved by it.

 

* * *

On the dock the next day Elizabeth was sweet and solicitous and she pressed kisses on him regardless of their audience. The tide was such the gang plank was in use so he let her go aboard while the last preparations were made which seemed to make her day. (He hoped it was that anyway and not the fact of him leaving.) At least her experience had not soured her against ships.

Just before James would have to escort her off, she held tight to his hand and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. “I am going to miss you so much,” she said and he was touched by the notion. “I hope you miss me. But if not you will next time. When you get back I am going to make you love me,” Elizabeth said her tone determined. Then she kissed him again and ran down the gang plank as if he might deny such a thing was possible, leaving him stunned and confused.

James had never damned the tides more in his entire naval career. He cannot follow her and yet he can think on nothing but her words. _Make him love her_. He did love her. He did not know why she had gotten the notion he did not or could not love her from But he knew now he had taken her words that night entirely the wrong way. And by saying nothing about it sure she was declaring she did not love him he had confirmed for her that he did not or could not love her.When nothing could be further from the truth and James can only hope this tour was as brief as it had been planned so he could go home and explain to Elizabeth she was loved and treasured.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets back from sea after a longer tour to find things are a little unsettled.

James was gone for four and a half months - longer than expected. They taken a french privateerand had to split the crew to sail her back and discipline had required watching with the thrill over the prize money that would bring. He was relieved everyday Elizabeth had agreed to stay with her father but even that was not enough to completely allay his worries. She had always been able to get around her father.

When he arrived home she was waiting on the docks, looking healthy - she’d put weight on which was good - but distant barely looking at him until he was right in front of her. She kissed his cheek even though they were in public and it was improper but it was such a feather light attempt he knows it was more for effect than for him. He did not comment on it.

When they arrived home, it was clear Elizabeth had not been staying with her father. The house looked lived in but well kept and the cat was settled on a sofa beside tea things that have not been cleared away and a pile of books. He knew asking why she was home would set them off on the wrong foot so he stroked at the cat - who was startled enough to let him and picked up a book to see what she was reading. It was to his bafflement a book on household management and she flushed pink when she saw him looking.

 

 

“Four months is a long time to be a house guest,” she said quietly. “And my father does fuss so - I’ve only been home a month or so.” She picked up the cat and petted at it while it nestled in her arms and glared at James. “And I’ve gone to so many events James and dinner at my father’s several times a week since I came home.” He hated that she looked so anxious - that was not what he wanted.

“I am glad you kept busy,” he said eventually. “And that you are at home here.” He had not been at all convinced she was before he left. “I am sorry - I was so much longer than planned. But the Dauntless is due for a careening. I should be home for some time so we’ll be able to attend things together.”

“That will be nice,” she said. It did not sound sincere but nor did Elizabeth sound distressed. She was completely detached and James felt at fault all over again. “Should I send for more tea?” she said in the same slightly disinterested tone.

“No,” he said, “I’ll ring for a bath I think - wash off some of the salt.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled at her. “I’ll leave you to your reading,” Perhaps that might relieve her.

 

James took his time in washing and changing and regretted it when he went downstairs to find the living room tidied. The books in no evidence at all and Elizabeth was sitting sewing. He managed not to double take at the sight. She set down the sewing hoop and rang for tea. The day carried on in that fashion, she was polite and proper at all times, she did not seem upset but nor did she seem herself.

At dinner she ate well and asked about his journey while remaining proper. He dreaded retiring tonight if she was keeping up this dutiful proper act. He could only imagine there would be some sort of dutiful offer of intimacy and now he did not even dare tell her he did care for her - that he loved her without receiving some sort uncomfortable exchange.

But it turned out he should not have worried - at least not about her making some sort of dutiful offer because she bid him good night with a kiss on the cheek and took herself off to her own bed early.

It made sense of course that Elizabeth was now comfortable sleeping alone - she had been before he left in a way and if not she would have had to become so while he was gone. Still James worried. It took much of his willpower to keep to his decision to respect her privacy and not check on her. It had not gone over well when he had intruded on her before he reminded himself.

 

 

The next day she joined him for breakfast, and startled him by apprising him of her social calendar for the week. She had done what he asked but now he was doubting if it had done her any good. She offered to make excuses if he wished her to cancel plans or wanted her company. This would be rude so he declined which only deflated her further and he tried to salvage the conversation by asking if there are any events they might attend together. Elizabeth nodded and said she would send notes to the host to say she would be accompanied and would find the invites for him.

The week carried on like this. Elizabeth was neat and precise and proper. She dressed well. She ate at meals. She behaved impeccably at the dinners they were invited to and if she would not dance with anyone but him she was polite in her refusals. She did dance with him whenever he asked and smiled prettily all night. It never reached her eyes. In the carriage on the way home, James leaned in for a kiss which she accepted with good grace as she had all else without returning it in the slightest causing him to pull away.  

 

That night, before she slipped away to her room, she asked if he would like her to join him. He realises he would. Rather desperately. He wanted to be close to her. He wanted to assure her he did not expect this of her. He had been wondering all week how he could tell her he did love her. That he missed her so much. But he had been too caught up in her strangely proper behaviour.“Shall I come to you?” he said. That way she could dismiss him if she wished.

“No,” she said firmly. “I shall come to you.” The question had betrayed that he wanted her. “I’ll not be long.” He thought changing his mind would make things more awkward.

 

It was half an hour before she appeared, her face washed, her hair down and she was wearing a new night gown. One which was clearly designed to appeal to him. It barely covered her but somehowonly made her look younger. As of course did the fact that she was clearly scared. She sat on the bed watching him in his night shirt looking like she would rather be anywhere else. When he slipped into bed and hesitantly pulled her close to kiss her hair and do nothing more than that, he hoped she might relax. She clearly thought he would want more and perhaps when she realises he did not - not unless she wanted more too, it would be easier.

But it didn’t seem to be easier, she was stiff as a board and hiding a tremble. He turned over as if to sleep, not even looking at her and then she was left to her own devices. Surely that was not so bad. She merely had to lie beside him. But he heard her shift and then to his horror the soft muffled sound of her crying into her pillow. He sat up and turned up the lamp, careful not to touch her.

“Elizabeth, you do not have to stay here if you do not want to,” he said quietly. But for some reason this made her cry harder and she flinched when he reached for her. In the end he decided to leave. He did not want to abandon her, but he could not provide comfort and his absence might. He went to the spare room. He had taken her change of venue as a hint that he would be best to keep out of her room.

He did sleep a little but not much - he got up to check on her at one point. It was not invading her privacy if she was in his room, he told himself. It surprised him that she was still there and sleeping if not peacefully at least she was sleeping. He went back to the guest room and tried to get some rest himself.

 

The next day he decided he would take her sailing. It was the only thing she had ever asked for and surely that would cheer her. Perhaps he might be to persuade her to let him know what had changed. What had upset her so. Or perhaps he could convince her of his feelings.

She declined the invite, very carefully. “It is kind of you to offer,” she said. “I know you indulged mebefore but I am doing much better now. I know I have to focus on more proper activities from now on. I do not wish to disgrace you or my father.”

James bit back an angry response – who had told her that. He had _never_ criticised herbeing improper – even when she had been. It was of course, the first time her father had been mentioned since he returned. Nor had James seen him. He considers the earlier set backs her father had caused with his insistence that Elizabeth be married far too soon and ignoring her issues and addressing it with presents. Had he said something else to set her back? Was insisting she stay with him a bad idea? It seemed so. Still he cannot force her to go sailing and he dropped the topic.

 

James kept his distance from her physically and restricted his attempts to cheer her to conversation. This generally did not go well and he felt badly watching her struggle to be proper and generally miserable. But his attempts to say this was unnecessary only made things worse - she would flee the room and he knew it ended in tears even though she was careful not to cry in front of him since the night she had came to his bed.

He had been home a week and a half when they have an invite for dinner at her father’s which James especially dreaded. Her father did not seem critical of her which was a relief but then she was hardly herself. Quiet and shy, she did not wish to interrupt their conversation apparently. Her father to his surprise and guilt was doing his best to coax Elizabeth to talk. And so James was robbed of yet another explanation for her behaviour. In fact when her father commented almost carelessly that she must be pleased James was home her response was the most she said all night.

“Yes,” she said. “I know I was not a proper wife before he went away but it was all so new. But I am very sensible of how lucky I am to be wed and I hope my gratitude is more clear now.”

Her father glared at him and James could not blame him, he was horrified by such a sentiment and the notion it might have come from him. He barely managed to refrain from saying uncivil things and he cannot help but interject.

“I can think of no circumstance, Elizabeth, in which I would not count myself to be the fortunate one in our marriage,” he told her, not caring that her father was present. “I am very grateful to have you as my wife.” Elizabeth stared at her plate and did not respond further.

Her father nods seeming relieved and added. “I know spending some time at home has made Elizabeth more grateful to have her own household to run.” This then the source of the household management books then.

 

James wondered if her father had implied the other things in an attempt to get Elizabeth to settle. James held his tongue until they are home and then did not let her retire taking her through to the sitting room to sit her down, kneeling in front of her to look her in the face.

“Sweetheart, I am sorry,” he said. “I do not expect you to feel lucky. I do not expect you to be grateful to me. You do not owe me anything you do not want to give.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I do,” she said her voice twisting. “I was so foolish - declaring I would make you love me.” She looked at him, her amber eyes shining with tears. “I did mean to you know. I have tried to make friends with other married women and learn what might please you. But none of them want to be my friend anymore than any man would want a women whose virtue was uncertain.” James barely stopped himself from wincing. So this was his fault then - his stupid notion of getting her to socialise. He thought perhaps it was her friends who might have been catty not married women who might have least accepted her.

But Elizabeth was not done and she was crying in earnest now.”But some of them were kind,” she said. “They told me I was lucky I was well dowered and had a father with influence. They said if I behaved properly and showed you I was grateful and was not a bother in time it would be easier for you to ignore the fact I was ruined,” she said refusing to look at him. It was probably as well because she would no doubt think his outrage at this _kind_ advice was for her. “I don’t even know how ruined I was. How many of them used me. They knocked me out after the fourth man forced mebut I woke up more bruised and more sore. He was not the last.”

James wanted to hang them all over again. She took a shaky breath. “And I just keep thinking before you said you’d have me my father was forced to get men his own age to try take me because most of them had heirs of their own and wouldn’t mind a woman already broken in, my father even told themhe’d provide for a bastard as long as they gave me a name for it.”She paused. “You spared me that and I have been nothing but awful in return.”

 

James would now have happily strangled his father in law. And the women who had given her advice. And any pirate between here and Nassau. He had been aware Weatherby Swann had made other unsuccessful efforts before his offer but how had Elizabeth learned of any of that, he did not know. He did allow that he doubted her father would have told her any of it but that rarely stopped her finding things out. “You have not been awful.” he insisted. “You are not a bother,” he said acidly - he was near shouting at her now. “I don’t want you to be grateful. I don’t want you to be proper. I want you to be happy.”

She looked terrified now and he took a deep breath to calm himself and to get his temper under control as she would only end up more cowed by attitude if he did not - no matter what he actually said. “I want you to feel safe. And secure.” He reached for her hand, “I want to take you sailing and hear about your adventure books and laugh at your antics with your cat.” She smiled then though it was wobbly and unsure and slipped forward into his arms weeping. He wrapped his arms round her and held her close, he pressed kisses to her hair and patted at her back until she calmed a little. “And it was not foolish to to declare you could make me love you,” he said. “In fact it was a little belated. You could not make me love you because I already do.”

 

Elizabeth blinked at him utterly bewildered. “You do?” she said and he hated that she was so unsure.

“Very much,” he said. “Elizabeth we have always been friends. I have always liked you just the way you are - even when you were menacing your governesses and your father and all the other girls who you ran circles round with your wits. Then I came home from a tour one day and you had grown up overnight and I knew then.” If it had not been love - he had known then he could love her. That she had drawn his attention more than any woman he'd ever met. And now she was his whole world. 

“Well you would never know it,” she said huffily and it was such a return to form it made him laugh.

“In the ordinary course of things I was going to wait for your debut,” he said. “Even for you to have a season perhaps.”

“Ugh,” she said sounding throughly put out. “A year of being pushed at chinless boys from London because my father knows theirs or at plantation heirs with their blood money. No thank you! Why did you not say when you married me!” She punched him in the arm and then frowned. “Or when I said I would never know love. You didn’t argue.”

“I thought you meant you could never love me,” he told her trying to ignore how much the feeling had stung.

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes at him. “Yes well _obviously_ I would go around announcing that after you saved me from pirates and married me and spent all your time looking after me.”

“You did accuse me of acting like your father,” James said gently. “And treating you like you were simple. And . . ” His litany of his ownfaults as listed by her was cut off with a shy kiss.

“You are still very stupid.” Elizabeth told him loftily, a smile curving her lips. “Of course I love you.” And when she kissed him this time there was nothing shy or or hesitant about it. He held her tightly and inhaled the scent of her hair. “May I come to your room tonight,” she asked quietly. “I am so sorry about the other night. I wanted to welcome you home properly - belatedly but I could not get up the nerve and then I felt so badly about it I became overwrought.”

“Elizabeth - you are welcome in my room anytime. But not if you have to get up your nerve.” he told her “I am happy to have just your company. Anything else can wait until you are ready.” James did not know how many times he would have to say this but he would until it sunk in.

 

She looked mutinous for a moment and prepared to argue but then she seemed to think better of it. “What about . . . “ she seemed lost for words for a moment and then she slipped herself into his lap. James had had no luck at all convincing her that this was enough in the past and he wondered if this was a good sign or a ploy but then she finally finds the words. “Something we both like?” she managed in the end, he kissed her then. Perhaps she was starting to believe he only wanted what pleased her.

He held her close. “There will never ever be anything between us you don’t like,” he assures her. “I mean that Elizabeth.” Not if he could keep the slightest track on what she _wanted_ anyway.

  

* * *

It made it easier between them at least - James did not approach her ever but Elizabeth slept in his bed each night and if she lay beside him, he did no more than embrace her making sure his hands did not wander. But if she slipped into his lap he knew she wanted his hands and his kisses and as soon as she was satiated she would wriggle against him until he groaned and only then would she take him in hand.

After weeks of this she asked him one night. “Do you not want more?” He could not help but think of the night of her birthday - of her uncomfortable and disinterested beneath him. He did not want that.

“Do you want more?” he asked in return. “I only want what you want Elizabeth.” Perhaps if he said it enough times it would sink in. She blushed though at this and he thought perhaps there was something she wanted. “You can tell me,” he assured her, his idle touch on her inner thigh slowing - he did not want her too distracted, he wanted her thinking clearly.

 

Instead she leaned to kiss him and rubbed herself against him in a way that did not do much for his ability to think clearly himself. Elizabeth had her face buried in his neck, nipping down to his collar bone, when she finally blurted out her question, her words muffled against skin. “Do you have to be on top?”

He did his best not to freeze. He had thought of this before - on numerous occasions in all honesty. But he could not bring himself to ask for more than she gave and he worried - that any attempt at what she was innocently suggesting might ruin the one thing that did please her.

But he had promised her anything she wants so he pulled back to kiss her again his hands settling on her hips. “No,” he said. “I do not have to be on top.”

 

Then she bit her lip for a long moment. “Good,” she said pressing herself against him and his chance to ask if she was sure was lost as she sank onto him. She stilled for a long moment when he was inside her and he stayed very still not sure of what she wanted. And then she put her hand over his and showed him exactly where she wanted his touch not moving at all until he was touching her and seemed to find an instinctive rhythm. She leaned to kiss him, her breath shaky with what he hoped was want. She cried his name when she found her pleasure and he arched up into her his self control lost as she tightened around him.

He breathed his name into her hair as Elizabeth collapsed on his chest, her breath quick and she clung to him for a long moment. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.” He worries until she looks up at him smiling like the cat who got the canary. He held her close, running one hand down her back which made her shiver. She had seemed pleased the last time they had been together but not like this and he touched her cheek.

 

“Alright?” James asked willing with all of his being for it to be only to be dragged into a deep kiss. He took that as an affirmative.

“Yes,” she said - her tone jubilant. “It was wonderful. You are wonderful.”

“No,” James said - “that was all you sweetheart. You are perfect and I love you.”

She slips off him then but stays in his arms cuddling close.“I love you,” she returned, settling down to use his arm as a pillow.

 

He was almost asleep, content with her cuddled into him when she sleepily asked. “Did you like .. . is it as good as the other way for you?”

“It’s much much better,” he told her. “It was wonderful - because you liked it. And if that was all you ever wanted, Elizabeth that would be more than enough for me.”

“Well,” she said. “We will see. I don’t know if it is enough for me.” James pulled her close and kissed her. At least he had _notice_ she meant to push herself further. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Elizabeth discuss family planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The method of "contraception" Elizabeth is trying here was inspired by the ITV show Victoria

Elizabeth continued to come to him – she did not want him in her room it seemed and he allowed her that – she should have some privacy even if his curiosity was peaked. Besides the cat slept in there and was no fonder of him now than it was to start with.

One night a week later she was curled in his arms, spooned against him and not in his lap. “Can we try it like this?” she said quietly.

He kissed her neck and agreed, “if you are sure. You must say if you don’t like it.”

But she did like it and they explored more and more and Elizabeth was fine as long as he was not directly atop her. That his weight does not press on her. Her favoured position that was not his lap was on her side with him nuzzling her neck and slipping into her from behind.

 

It did cause another issue – though it was weeks before James realised. But one night he woke and was startled to find himself alone the bed cold beside him. Elizabeth had slept with him for weeks now even when she didn’t want more than to lie in his arms. Had he does something wrong – was he pushing her again. But he can hear that she was next door – there was a strange creaking sound. He went to the door and pushed it ajar only to be baffled by the sight of her jumping up and down on her bed.

“Five, six, seven,” she was counting under her breath and he could do nothing but stare for a long moment.

“Elizabeth?” he blurted. “What are you doing?”

 

Elizabeth froze on the bed and then seemed to consider before she started jumping again until she got to ten and then getting down from the bed her face flushed. “Nothing,” she said and then she tried to shove him back through the door and he realised he had not even taken in her room. It was covered with paintings – ships and the sea and quite a few portraits he realised. Including one that was framed and hung and he took a step closer stunned by them. “Don’t!” she said shrill and panicked and he let her tug her back through to his room where she promptly burst into tears.

“Oh sweetheart,” he said his curiosity forgotten. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to pry. I just wondered where you went.” He would have said he was happy for her to sleep in her room if she wished but she clearly had not gone in there to sleep.

 

“I am sorry,” she said. “I should have told you – I didn’t want to disappoint you. But I don’t want to have a baby – not yet anyway.”

James felt guilty himself – she was far too young for motherhood he thought but he had done nothing to prevent such an occurrence.

“I would be happy to wait a few years before we worry about children,” he said. “I should have said – I should have taken that into account when we are together Elizabeth. But I am not sure what that has to do with your activity – what _were_ you doing?”

 

“I was jumping up and down ten times,” Elizabeth said innocently. “To shake it all out of me. My maid said that nearly _always_ works.”

James managed not to laugh but only because he knew it would upset her further. “I am afraid that is not true, Elizabeth.” He pulled her close to kiss her reassuringly. “But there are ways we can avoid conception. But once that is in – you cannot shake it all out.”

Elizabeth looks sceptical and James prayed to god she was not going to argue. Or discuss volume. “Do I have to go back to using my hand?” she said. “All the time?” She did not seem to like that idea. She kissed his neck. “I like having you inside of me now – I just don’t want a baby yet.”

 

“Not all the time,” James said. “It depends on your courses and when they are due.” He did not want to admit he did not know the exact details even if it would be odd if he did. And he could always pull out but as blunt as she was he was not about to tell her that. It seemed like it would be much easier to demonstrate that than to discuss it.

“Alright,” she said. “But I don’t see that jumping up and down could _hurt_ matters.”

 

She took herself back off to bed and though he did not mean to bring up the paintings – she had been so defensive. “You aren’t to mock my paintings either.” She added curling up under the covers.

“I was not going to,” he said and then he can’t help but ask. “Are they all of me?”

“No,” she said. “Don’t be so vain James! They are not all of you. Some of them are the _Dauntless_ or the view from the fort.”

“I meant the portraits,” he said quietly and she flushed.

“Oh,” she said sulkily. “Fine then – those are all you. I wanted one to hang up while you were away and it took me a few goes. And even the best one I could not get your eye colour right.”

James was beyond touched. “That is very sweet,” he said. “I am glad you wanted a picture of me.”

Elizabeth only made a huffing sound and he knew he should drop it. “Perhaps next you might work on a self-portrait?” he asked. “One I could hang on the Dauntless.”

“Would you really want one?” she said and he hated that it was so easy for her to sound unsure.

“Very much,” he said.  

“Alright then,” she said. “But I expect a present in return. Painting is hard work.”

James had almost not dared buy her a birthday present she had been so against presents a while ago. He goes to sleep quite buoyed by the idea of being able to spoil Elizabeth and receive a portrait of her for his cabin.

 

* * *

He engaged a midwife in the end to advice Elizabeth on the matter of timing and leaves that in her charge – he would like to be surer by calculating things himself but he cannot ask her about such personal things. Well he could and she would probably answer but he felt it was prying.

Elizabeth sulked around the house for days after the visit and refused to tell him what was wrong. He was concerned the midwife had upset her and had a brief horror that perhaps his lack of caution had not been undone by her jumping and the midwife had found she was already with child.

It is nearly a week later that it came out in an outburst at dinner. “Do you know that I was forced to spend three afternoons a week learning to sew. Four lessons a week on the pianoforte. My father was going to hire someone to improve my posture before my debut. But no-one ever told me anything useful. If I had known that about timing – I would have known there wasn’t going to be a baby after . . .” she trailed off. “I spent all that time worrying.”

 

James left his seat to go to her side. He kissed her cheek. “It is not a complete guard against conception,” he said. “But a good start.” He thought in the circumstances she would have worried anyway – how could she not.

“When we do have children I am going to make sure our daughters learn useful things,” she said – she managed to make it sound quite ominous.

“Well,” he said. “As long as you wait until they are about to marry or when I am at sea and do not have to look them in the eye – I do not see that I can object.”

She was reassured by her new-found knowledge though and James was pleased – she even marked the days likely to lead to conception on the calendar in his office to make him filled with relief he does not employ a clerk of any kind that he would have to explain that to.

 

* * *

 

James decided to go all out with her present and she was quite thrilled when he led her down to the docks. “Sailing is the perfect present,” she told him nearly flinging herself out of the carriage with reckless abandon.

She headed straight for the cutter they had rented last time and he had to persuade her away. “Not that one,”

“I liked that one,” she told him as he led her further along the docks to a slightly bigger cutter.

“I was rather hoping you would like this one,” he said and she takes in the neat nameplate and the small figurehead. The _Cygnet_ as it is named has a neat swan head carved proportionally and the wings are painted along the side. It is an affection he knew but one he thought might appeal. “Because it’s yours.”

She turned to him startled. “Mine?”

“Yes,” he said. He could not let her go out to sea on her own of course but he could let her have her way entirely when they were aboard. “You shall be Captain aboard this vessel.”

“Well we can’t both be Captain Norrington,” she said. “It would quite confuse the none existent crew.” She bats her eyelashes at him and he laughed.

“For the sake of the none existent crew,” he said. “I suppose I shall have to take a demotion aboard this vessel and be lieutenant Norrington again.” He helped her aboard only to have her tease him further.

“Are you sure that is the wisest choice of rank?” Elizabeth said settling down in the cutter and seizing the tiller. “It offers very little chance for advancement – if you were willing to start a midshipman you would have something to aim for!”

“I think I might be able to curtail my ambition aboard this vessel,” James’ told her, casting off and watching her as she steered – she had picked it up quickly and as long as the _Cygnet_ was stable he meant to let her have her way.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James acts on Elizabeth's behalf in society before he leaves on a further tour.

Now that James knew about Elizabeth’s painting collection he was allowed in her room – he even managed to claim one of her paintings of the Dauntless for his office at the fort. But he was strictly forbidden from even attempting to look at the self-portrait in progress which she only worked on when he was not there.

Though he saw evidence of her progress – she rearranged the furniture in several rooms when trying to decide which pose she was going to use. And spent quite a bit of time on wardrobe and hair selection.

And unlike her attempts at painting him – she destroyed her early attempts when she did not like them. James could remember his sister scraping the paint away and trying again during lessons under her painting master but Elizabeth never bothered – he arranged for more paint and canvas to be delivered. She was likely to outrun her allowance at the rate she was going and he wanted her to be able to buy anything else she wanted.

 

But when he told her so, she laughed at him. “Honestly James – if I ran out of money I would just have them put it on account and send you the bill.” That was both reassuring and perturbing but he supposed he would have to wait until it actually happened before he attempted to lecture her on fiscal responsibility. The accounts for the house were well handled. Though it was foolish to expect that a girl who had repeatedly boasted that _she_ could pass the lieutenants exam before she was even out would struggle with basic accounts. (James disagreed – perhaps she could do navigation easily enough but her Latin was terrible but he had had the sense not to say so.)

She read his silence as always and kissed his cheek. “You can take it out of my next month’s allowance if it should happen. I won’t bankrupt you buying paint.”

 

James would never actually deduct money from her allowance but that did seem a slightly more responsible attitude which was as much as he could hope for. “You know I would not mind whatever you spent, Elizabeth,” he said. “I only worry you may be out of funds when I am not here or . . “

“Oh pfft,” she said. “As if that would happen,” James knew it was foolish pride to not want her to go to her father but she was his wife and his responsibility now. “After all,” she teased. “I could always sell a painting.

That at least made him laugh and he pulled her into a kiss, planning, all the same, to leave extra funds behind next time he had to sail.

 

* * *

 

One day he came home to find Elizabeth pensive over an invite – to a debutante ball for Miss Draper. “We do not have to go,” James told her. He had not been pleased with the results of his last attempts to encourage her to socialise.

“No,” Elizabeth said at once stubborn. “I think I would like to – I like Luciana – she has been kind.” James knows this was not true of all her old friends. “Besides I am not going to be put off by a load of spiteful gossip.” She kissed his cheek. “I am a respectable married lady now.”

 

Perhaps then the source of the pensiveness. She had never gotten a debut and his plans to court her anyway had certainly not gone to plan. 

“Would you like a new gown,” James offered as if that could improve the prospect of attending a celebration of the sort she never got to have.

“I have lots of new gowns,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Surely you remember,” he had been subject to quite the fashion parade to choose one for the portrait.

“That your father chose,” he said. “Surely you would like to pick something – especially as there is a wider range available to a respectable married lady?” This did seem to pique her interest – of course, she would be more interested in something that she could not have had before.

 

Elizabeth did go to town the next day – he had offered to accompany her and been roundly refused saying she wanted to _surprise_ him and as such only took her maid. That mildly worried him but she could hardly buy something entirely inappropriate in the dressmakers in town. He hoped. But he was at least permitted to pay for it.

In the end, James makes additional preparations for the party – she is not the only one who can plan surprises though Elizabeth does look stunning in her new gown.  A deep dark green silk embroidered with golden leaves and matched with a hair ribbon in the same pattern and emerald ear bobs.  He told her so repeatedly in the carriage on the way there making her laugh. “Perhaps I should pick all my new gowns out,” she said. “You seem quite taken with this one.”

“I am taken with you,” James told her and kissed her right there in the carriage making her giggle as if she was scandalised.

 

The party is a clear success. James knows the Draper family quite well – Luciana’s older brother is a promising midshipman and seems to be keeping a watchful eye on anyone who approaches his sister despite this being the entire purpose of the evening.

And half the time Luciana was surrounded by her gaggle of friends including Elizabeth. But also, including at least three girls who have been cruel to his wife at other events. Elizabeth did not seem harassed, though, she was by Luciana’s side and they are giggling over something as men hover to ask for dances.

Or at least to ask certain girls for dances. James cannot influence everyone of course but no naval officer or son of a merchant family that relies on Fort Charles for business will be dancing with any girl who has been rude to Elizabeth.

 

It is Miss Prescott who noticed first that she was being snubbed – he thought anyway. He was watching from a distance as Groves and Gillette secured dances with the debutante, and two of the other girls. Then they are refused by Elizabeth as per her sworn statement she will dance with no-one but him and bow and move on, ignoring Miss Prescott and the girls who have followed her example in drawing attention to Elizabeth’s ordeal. After a few repeats of this one of them flounces off in a huff and Elizabeth excuses herself as Miss Draper is led on the dance floor.

 

“James, what did you do?” Elizabeth said coming to his side, glee written all over her face. “Miss Prescott has secured not a single dance and she is fit to burst with temper.”

“What makes you think I did anything?” James retorted. It was not perhaps his proudest moment but it was worth it to see Elizabeth happy.  “No naval officer wants to court a girl who cannot get on with his commander’s wife.”

“Ha,” Elizabeth said. “Well, that is her well out then. But if you like you may encourage Lt. Groves with Luciana if you like – she is most certainly fond of him. And I do get on with her.”

After that she informed him he was dancing the next with her – he would point out he did not ask but he does not care to be formal and they have long established they will dance with no-one but each other no matter how improper.

 

* * *

 

In the end, she finished the promised painting two days before he was due to sail again – not against pirates or on Patrol but against the French, an altogether trickier proposition at least for planning purposes. Of course, he cannot object to seeing some real fighting or making it clear to the French just who controlled these waters. But it had Elizabeth fretful which he regretted. “I do not mean to be silly,” she said. “I know you can sail rings around the French but I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too,” he said. “I will write. We will be supplying from the colony at Carolina – at Charlestown if you wish to write.”

“Of course I wish to write,” Elizabeth said exasperatedly. “Honestly James if you keep this up, I shall not give you your present.”

The present is the painting of course; a portrait of Elizabeth sitting in the garden, wearing her new ball gown in but looking lost in thought. “That is me, thinking about you and hoping you will be home soon,” she told him, which made him smile. It was nice to think she would miss him – he had not been at all sure last time he sailed.

And then she took him upstairs to say farewell him properly and the painting was abandoned until the day he sailed where it got pride of place in his office.

 

* * *

 

He was gone the best part of a year all told and if not for her letters – he would have been quite mad with worry.

Every time they dock for supplies there is a letter and on several wonderful occasions two or three. Elizabeth’s letters are very train of thought and entirely unedited – she seemed to write whatever was in her head and that gave him confidence it was not all a pretence. While she complained often of missing him there are stories of dinners with her father, garden parties and she seemed to have made some firmer friends. Her letters often cover several days and he enjoyed the idea of her sitting down each evening to add a bit about her day.

 

His own letters are not as enjoyable he is sure – shipboard life was much the same day to day and there is a limit on how much he would tell her about battle – they have encountered the French three times and taken one prize. Another merchantman. The French first rates only have eighty guns and turn and run as soon as they see the Dauntless. So far the wind has been in their favour but if they catch them with the wind against them they will not make such headway.

Elizabeth often includes sketches in her letters too – of herself, of her cat. Of a tea party, she had held. Once one of the Cygnet and a complaint of how it is severely neglected. This only reassured him that she had not attempted to sail without him.

One letter detailed that Calypso had turned up _enciente._ Elizabeth went into anguished details about how hard it was to part with the kittens. James would have expected her to keep all of them but if they are anything like the mother cat he was relieved Elizabeth had been so sensible. 

He received one letter that was near incomprehensible. It was in truly terrible Latin -  It took him days to work it out – but realised he had mentioned that midshipman Draper had passed his lieutenant's exam. But if this is some sort of attempt to prove her Latin is adequate it was sadly unconvincing.

He wrote the beginning of his next letter to her in Latin admonishing to mind her tenses and declensions – he felt safe to do so because he could be as stern as he liked and he doubted she would take most of it in. Then he implored her to write in English because her letters were all he had to sustain him. Her response, when it comes, is entirely in French but that at least she can write fluently and he was scolded a little for not appreciating her efforts.

In the end, they receive word that the French ship has wrecked itself on the Florida coast and are ordered back to Jamaica. James regrets the necessity of returning to Carolina – he would like to set sail at once but they return for supplies of course.

 

* * *

When they docked at Charlestown – a week later, James thought he was seeing things when he saw Elizabeth waiting on the docks. At first, he thought it was only someone who looked like her or his overactive imagination, perhaps if he was away from home much longer he would see her in every slender blonde woman. But then she waved giddy at the sight of him and he realised it _was_ her.

She has only grown more beautiful in their time apart – though perhaps he has only misremembered her beauty. She stands a little taller and if she was becoming a woman when she left she was certainly one now, smiling knowingly at him as he clambered down the side rigging like an eager boy, took her up in her arms and spun her around.

 

“Surprise,” she squealed, her happy laughter ringing in his ear as she clutched tightly to him. When he set her on her feet again she leant up to kiss him not caring at all that she was in public.

He made a great show of looking up and down the docks. “Please tell me I will not see the Cygnet tied up here,” he said, trying and failing to look stern.

“I should hope not – I left it safely moored at home,” Elizabeth said. “Admiral Bellamy was sent here for discussions with the Governor, and I persuaded my father to call in a favour and get me a cabin on the _Bellerophon.”_ James frowned – that ship was only a third-rate and as such he would have liked her on something more secure but she was not done. “My father said I was being silly – that there was no guarantee you would dock while I was here. But I knew it would be worth it. I have missed you so much.”

“In that case,” James told her. “I have some good news. I have been ordered back to Jamaica so if I could offer you alternative transport to the _Bellerophon._ But I do not have a spare cabin- so you might have to share with me.”

“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said, still filled with mirth. “What a hardship – I think I can just about cope.” She still has not let go of him. “I am staying with the Governor,” she said. Another favour from her father James assumed. “And that, of course, extends to you when you are done here.”

 

* * *

The dinner with Governor Beauchamp and his family that evening was one of the longest of James’ life. Elizabeth was a vision in cream satin and James found himself glowering at the Governor’s eldest son Solomon, who was a boy of twenty who did nothing but make calf eyes at Elizabeth the entire meal. It made James feel both jealous and old. Except for the fact that Solomon was most put out that Elizabeth barely looked at him all night. She only had eyes for James.

“I do not think I can bear it,” she whispered in his ear on the way to the parlour for drinks. “Will it cause a complete scandal if we retire early.”

James was beyond tempted but he marshalled his self-control. “You know very well it would,” he said. “Unless you can think of a fitting excuse.”

 

Solomon was at her side the instant she sat down, despite James’ glare imploring her to play. “Oh perhaps,” she said. “Just one song – I am afraid that I got a little much sun today at the docks. I feel quite faint.” She turned to James and asked sweetly. “Will you turn the pages for me, darling?” James could tell she was amused at how put out this made the boy. And they never got near the piano before Elizabeth fell into a very realistic swoon and James caught her up in his arms.

“I hope you will excuse me,” he said. “My wife clearly needs her rest.” He bowed as best he could and took Elizabeth off to their room.

 

They were barely out of the room when she dropped her feint and nuzzled at his neck. He should tell her to behave. He saw more than one maid servant giggling at them but he did not want to stop enjoying the feel of her lips on his skin so instead he quickened his pace.

The room that Elizabeth has been staying in is a fine wide chamber with a view of the bay from the window and a large canopied bed. James set her on her feet to kiss her – he wanted the taste of her mouth more than he wanted air currently and whenever he managed to summon some self-control, Elizabeth almost immediately undid it. He meant to ask her to ring for a maid but she only steered his hands to her laces even as she reached for his buttons, she strips him of his jacket and waistcoat and gives up on his shirt going straight for his breeches.

 

Her dress fell to the floor and he had loosened her corset but she stumbled back to the bed dragging him with her and lifted her shift. “Please James,” she whimpered against his neck and he cannot resist. It was only when he in her - on her and groaning at the pleasure of it, that he had realised what he had done and how he had done it - he has not been atop her since the very first time they lay together. That had gone terribly and he drew to a halt. “Elizabeth I’m sorry,” he said starting to pull back but was stopped when she wrapped her legs around him.

“You will be if you move any further away,” Elizabeth scolded, blinking up at him. “James it’s alright. I want this. I want you – just like this.”  She leant up to kiss him and he melted against her, willing this to be alright. She gasped in his ear as he touched her, his hand insinuated between them and shouted his name when she peaked. And that perhaps convinced him more than anything that she was alright and he let pleasure wash over him resting his head on her shoulder. He did not dare relax though until he had moved off her. He should be ashamed of himself – they are both half-dressed and rumpled and he was not meant to be atop her like that. But she was watching him with the most satisfied expression and that really made it quite hard to feel guilt or shame.

 

“I am sorry I forgot,” James told her quietly in the end. It had turned out well but he should never have put her in that position. He could have frightened her terribly.

“I’m not,” Elizabeth said. “I have thought about having you in every which way that I know is possible, while you’ve been away. But I doubt I could have conveyed it to you without an opening.” She blushed. “I’m fine James. Because of you. Do not worry.”

James let out the breath he was holding. Relief flooded through him. He helped her the rest of the way out of her clothing, kissing over the marks the corset had left.

“Every which way?” James asked suggestively and Elizabeth laughed.

“Get those breaches off,” she ordered. “I won’t be the only naked one.” Then she pulled him right down atop her without the slightest hint of hesitation and James was happy to let her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After ten years of marriage - James and Elizabeth embark on a new adventure. Now complete :)

TEN YEARS LATER

It had been a surprise for James to arrive home from the fort the day before they sailed to find Elizabeth entirely occupied. Even after ten years of marriage she still came to greet him most days and grant him at least a brief kiss. She had ruined numerous uniforms by coming to him direct from her easel and marking him up with paint but he had never been able to bring himself to care.

Elizabeth had grown from a lovely girl to a woman of incomparable beauty and James occasionally felt had a spark of guilt sure that if she had become this beautiful when unmarried she would never have looked twice at him. She could have gone to London and won herself a countess or duchess’ coronet.

Elizabeth laughed herself silly at the notion – he had only mentioned it in his cups and she had been very explicit about what she thought about the notion of a coronet and how she would not trade him for any rank.

 

But today Elizabeth did not greet him at the door and James went looking for her and found her in the lounge with a very small boy chasing her – it caught his attention and imagination at once.

He watched them for some time – completely unnoticed which was unusual and completely captivated which was not. But while he never usually got away with watching Elizabeth – she got quite irate that he would stand and moon over her instead of coming to kiss her right now, today her attention was entirely caught up by another male. 

A much smaller one and the game she was engaged in with the baby was very involved it seems. The boy could barely toddle but he was doing his best to chase Elizabeth around the drawing room fascinated by the swish of her skirts. Whenever he did catch her, Elizabeth swung the boy up for a kiss and a cheer then set him down and they began again.

 

James could not help his thoughts wandering the entire time he watched. It was only when the child’s tiredness caused him to sit down and burst into noisy tears that he thought he would dare interrupt. But that only led to Elizabeth cradling the boy close, shushing him and bouncing him in a way that seemed so expertly maternal that James felt his heart lurch – just a little.

When the child was calm, James decided against waiting for her to notice him. “Elizabeth,” he said cautiously, stepping into the room instead of lurking in the doorway. “Whose child is that?” James thought it a reasonable question. Elizabeth had never shown the slightest interest in children – not once. She steered clear of them at garden parties. Complained that christenings made church even longer. And they had never had a conversation about it since the night when they were newly married and he had to explain rather cautiously the ineffectiveness of jumping up and down as a contraceptive. Elizabeth still marked his calendar every month and he adhered to that of course. He had taken it as a clear sign of her wishes on the matter. There was gossip of course. Ten years wed and not a whisper of a pregnancy – some people said Elizabeth had been damaged by the assault she had suffered. They did not say it around James – not more than once anyway.

“This is Tom,” Elizabeth said, still bouncing the grizzling child. “He’s Mrs Clarke’s grandson. Her son and his wife both have yellow fever so he cannot stay at home. She was quite frantic this morning. I said she could keep him here. I told her not to bother with dinner, that we would dine with my father but she would not have it. You know she likes a grand dinner before you sail and she would not dream of skimping when we are both away, so I said I would watch young Tom instead.” She bounced the baby again. “And we have had a delightful afternoon.” Tom had calmed by now and he squealed and clapped in approval.

 

“That’s very kind of you,” James said, feeling curiously let down.

“She fretted of course,” Elizabeth said. “But we have both had yellow jack so it was not as if it matters – I do hope he hasn’t got it too. It would be dreadful for a child.”

James concurred with that sentiment. He had never been more ill in his life than when he had contracted yellow fever the year after they arrived in Jamaica and he knew full well that he had the milder version of the disease – four days of fever and a headache so bad he could barely open his eyes while being more exhausted than he had ever been. Elizabeth had contracted yellow fever just after his promotion to Commodore, shortly after her 19th birthday and she, of course, had the most severe form of the disease. She had been ill for the best part of a fortnight and  in addition to the regular symptoms had been jaundiced, and both cried and vomited blood. He had seldom been more terrified or prayed more and he remembered vividly the night the fever had broken. She had finally slept peacefully while he had cried in relief. He could only hope that the boy was spared that – and that his parents recovered. Many did not from Yellow Jack.

James stepped closer to her and bent to greet the boy who seemed a little shy but then spotted the braid on James’ uniform and immediately reached for his hat. Elizabeth laughed “He’s quite a magpie,” she said but James popped his hat on Tommy’s head – it fell to his nose and covered his eyes and the boy giggled. Elizabeth let him take the boy and he mimicked the bouncing motion as the toddler carried on running his hands over James’s hat – until he tired of it and threw it to the floor with a laugh and reached for Elizabeth – he seemed quite attached to her.

“I see,” James said. “I imagine you have had a very busy morning – did you have a chance to pack?”

“I left that to Estrella,” Elizabeth said. “You know she hates it when I am underfoot and she is trying to organise me.” James grinned. Elizabeth was fussy about what she actually wore – and everything she owned was beautiful but she was more than happy to let her maid do any organising or packing. “You know she will only pack the high fashion things – she is determined I not be outdone in any of the colonies,” Elizabeth bounced the child in her arms as she talked. He was clearly tired from his afternoon of play and clinging a little. By the time the baby began to doze in her arms, James decided to go and change rather than watch her cuddle a sleeping infant. He would never press her – and afternoon of minding a child was not the same as parenthood and he had always put her first. But he was not a total glutton for punishment – he was not going to torment himself with the sight of her being maternal.

 

* * *

At dinner Elizabeth was bright and cheerful – she always was when there was a mission or voyage she could accompany him on. She liked to tease him that it was only because she missed him and not because she wanted to sail and he liked to think there was a little truth in that. He always missed her when she was away and she remained a dedicated correspondent whenever his duty allowed him to actually give her an address to write to.  

“It will be nice to go somewhere new,” Elizabeth said. “You haven’t been to Savannah either have you?” He shook his head. “Besides,” she added. “Every time we go to Charlestown, Solomon Beauchamp spends the entire time sighing over me even though he’s been married twice now.” She pulled a face at the very idea and James laughed into his soup.

“I am sure the young men of Savannah will be just as happy to swoon over you,” he told her. “If they have eyes at all that is.”

“Hush,” Elizabeth said. “I am an old married lady now.” But she kissed his cheek. “As long as you swoon over me I shall be content.”

“Always,” James told her sincerely.

 

* * *

That night she insisted they retire early with a glint in her eye that he recognised and as such did not require much convincing.

Elizabeth settled herself into his lap the instant he was in bed. She was inclined to be adventurous in bed and still found ways to surprise him no matter how long they had been wed. Given circumstances he remained inclined to let her take the lead - even after all this time. But this remained her favourite and he dropped his hands to her hips to pull up her nightgown and admire her nude form. She was perfect and he groaned as she sank onto him. He sat up to kiss her and nuzzle her neck as she rode him, his hands running over her and coaxing her to her climax. She shuddered with pleasure and a cry of his name and then leant down to kiss him as she rocked her hips back and forth until he arched under her. Then she leant to kiss him. “Don’t worry,” she teased. “I will be quieter aboard ship.” She slipped off him and snuggled into his arms contently.

James flushed at her words. The last trip he had taken her on, Lt Groves had drawn the short straw and had to inform him that they could be quite clearly heard – his quarters were spacious but still near to the other officers. It had taken him a full day to be able to mention this to Elizabeth, only for her to not even be abashed by it. Instead, Elizabeth had mischievously suggested the men would just have to get used to the fact that he had the privileges of command.

James had resolved not to touch her until they were home – failed to adhere to that for a single night and spent every night kissing her as they lay together to catch up most of her cries with his mouth. He had only been partially successful.

“Honestly,” Elizabeth had told him one evening. “They are all assuming you take advantage of having me here. You ought to scold them – you told me it was proper manners aboard ship to pretend you could not overhear.” James had not been able to tell her he could not bear the idea of them hearing her caught up in passion. There were some things a man did not want to share.

 

* * *

Their first night aboard ship, James worked late settling the watches and dealing with the newer officers. One of the younger midshipman was clearly homesick and he sent Lt. Groves to comfort the lad in an unobtrusive way. By the time he went back to his cabin Elizabeth was curled up in the trestle bed asleep. There was a weighted lamp lit by the bed and she still had a sleepy grip on her current book. It was not often that sleep caught up with her when she was determined to wait up for him. So James did his best not to wake her as he prepared for bed. She must be truly tired and the last thing he wanted was to disturb her. He snuck the book out of her hand, marked her page with a hair ribbon – these seemed to multiply in his quarters even when Elizabeth was not aboard. He put out the lamp before he slid into bed beside her. She stirred a little and he shushed her quietly and pressed a kiss to her sleep-rumpled curls while staying very still. Elizabeth was a very restless sleeper and it took nothing to wake her. She made a small noise in her sleep and turned into his embrace before settling and James relaxed into sleep himself.

 

In the morning, James was scolded thoroughly of course. “Why did you not wake me?” Elizabeth demanded, “you know I like to bid you good night.” There was a suggestive note to her voice that James knew of old by now.

“You looked far too comfortable,” James said. “I did not have it in me to wake you,” He pulled her into his arms for a kiss and after a moment she relented at which point he had added. “You know I would never be so ungentlemanly as to wake you in the night with demands. And I have no intention of modifying that behaviour.”

Elizabeth had only arched an eyebrow at him, stretched suggestively. “Just as well I am not under any obligation to be _gentlemanly_.”

James laughed at her teasing. “You, of course, are welcome to be ungentlemanly anytime you like.”

 

* * *

The journey to Savannah went more quickly than James would have liked – they had good winds and excellent weather and Elizabeth looked a little wistful when land was spotted.

“Never mind,” James told her as she stood on deck watching the waves. “Perhaps the Governor will have a handsome son to entertain you.”

Elizabeth laughed. “He has three daughters! Only one is married and newly a mother – so you had better warn your lieutenants. According to my father he is desperate to have the younger two married off.”

“Duly noted,” James said with a smile. “Though some of them would welcome a match with a governor’s daughter. I would highly recommend it.”

“Flatterer,” Elizabeth said, but she was clearly pleased. “I hope you have explained that I am one of a kind.” She kissed his cheek. “I should go change if we are to go ashore soon.”

“Why?” James said not quite willing to part with her just yet. “You look lovely, Elizabeth.”

“Oh as if you can be trusted,” she said happily. “You always think that, but I gave Estrella my word. She didn’t pack everything that was the height of fashion for no reason you know.”

“You won’t be able to get into anything the height of fashion on your own,” James pointed out.

“Indeed,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps you would care to come and help.”

James tried to tell himself he would not bed his wife in the middle of the day when his men were on deck and had watched them go to his quarters to play maid no less. It was not a promise to himself that he kept.

 

* * *

Savannah was much more humid that Port Royal had been when they left. The air thick with moisture. Elizabeth was appalled. “I feel like I cannot breathe,” she said lying on the bed in their guest room, fanning herself in a lacklustre manner. “Is it always like this.”

“I believe so,” James said. He had been glad to discard his uniform coat the instant they were alone.

“Why would anyone build a city here,” she said woefully causing him to cross the room to kiss her.

“You said the same about London,” he reminded her.  They had visited his family shortly before Elizabeth’s 22nd birthday after a dedicated letter campaign from his mother begging them to do so. She had adored Elizabeth of course but Elizabeth had not been warm a day they had spent in England not matter how many layers she wore. The nights had been a bit more managable if rather demanding.

“That is not the same,” she said. “I cannot just remove clothing the way I added it in London.”

“It is not that much warmer than home,” James said suddenly concerned. Despite the smoothness of the sailing on the trip, Elizabeth had had the occasional bout of seasickness and now if she was running a fever. He could not help but think of Young Tom’s parents and their illness and though yellow jack was said to be an illness that could only be caught once he felt a flare of worry.

He went over to feel her forehead - only for her to bat his hand away. “I am not fevered,” she exclaimed. “Only sweaty.”

James pressed her kiss to her forehead despite her scolding. “We will be left alone until dinner,” he pointed out – “so you may recover from your time at sea. So, there is nothing stopping you removing as much clothing as you like.”

Elizabeth considered that for a moment. “Well that certainly appeals,” she said with a slow knowing smile. “Though I am not entirely convinced that will actually lead to me being any cooler.”

James kissed her. “Do you think I have so little self-control.” He asked teasingly.

“No, I know all about your self-control,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “But I suppose I would rather be sweaty for a reason.” She slipped out of bed and into his arms and he let his hands wander to her laces.

Ten years of marriage had given James ample practice at stripping Elizabeth out of her complicated fanciful beautiful clothing. He had her utterly naked before he even considered his own clothing – Elizabeth did not touch his clothing and when she was naked she settled herself on the bed to watch him unfasten his shirt and breeches.

 

* * *

The day he sailed Elizabeth came to the docks in a gown more fit for a ball. She pressed a letter into his hand and kissed him thoroughly in full sight of all the men. They at least had the sense to not wolf whistle and cheer – they were used to this by now as Elizabeth saw him off like this on every tour not caring how improper it was. Nor could James bring himself to care.

“Hopefully it should not be long,” James told her. “But occasionally we must let the French see a first rate in the colonies. But when we have patrolled I will take you home where it is slightly less swamp like.”

Elizabeth laughed to hear her complaints thrown back at her. “As you should,” she said. “But I will manage socialising I am sure. No matter how sticky it gets.”

 

* * *

He was gone two months – longer than expected. The _Dauntless_ had been caught on the edge of the storm and at the end of it had come across a French second rate that had been caught much worse – they had put up a mostly token fight and by the time James had taken the Captain’s parole and returned him his sword Groves was still standing on deck looking stock still with shock. “Look lively, Captain,” James had told him. “You need to put together a prize crew.”

 

The _Formidable_ had been damaged by the storm and they near limped back to Savannah - it was near midnight when they docked. James was relieved and disappointed that Elizabeth had not come to the docks at night. He was startled to find she was still awake when he arrived. She was rather improperly pacing in the Governor’s drawing room in her nightgown and wrapper. Her hair was loose and she had yet another child in her arms. This one a much smaller child curled in her arms and it softened her somehow and made him want to see her hold _their_ child like that in the worst way. “Elizabeth,” he said startled and wondered rather desperately if he could consider two incidents a pattern?

 

Elizabeth put a finger to her lips and came to kiss his cheek. “I just got this one to sleep,” she whispered. And he recognised rather vaguely the Governor’s granddaughter who was far too young to be out of the nursery but had accompanied her mother to tea one day so her grandfather could boast over her. Elizabeth settled the child against her chest and told him. “Her mother has yellow fever now – there has been quite the outbreak I am afraid and the babe will barely tolerate the wet nurse and we have been taking it in shifts. Her aunt has bet me her best bonnet I could not get her to go down but I think she just wanted to go to bed really.”

James stared. He could not help but want to ask how it was she had got involved in this but he did not want to wake the child. Elizabeth vanished off to return the babe to the nursery telling him to go to bed and she would see him there.

 

* * *

James could not wait patiently he found as he considered just how he could ask her – perhaps she had just been being hospitable? Perhaps she had been bored?  He was so lost in thought he barely heard her come in and she came to kiss him eagerly. “I missed you,” she said holding him tightly.

He had missed her too – so much. And he should have said that. But instead, he blurted. “Elizabeth have you changed your mind about children.” She looked slightly bemused and he was immediately apologetic. “I am sorry to be so forward – it is only you have seemed slightly more interested in them of late and of course I have missed you too.” She cut off his rambling  with a kiss and he wondered how it was that after ten years of marriage she could still make him so nervous.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said simply.

James did not even understand at first and then it dawned and he grinned like a child. “Truly?” he asked pulling her into his arms.

“Of course truly,” Elizabeth assured him, with a laugh. “You will be a wonderful father. I have been waiting for you to bring it up – you seemed so happy with the way things were. I practically had to snatch Young Tom off his grandmother to try and put the idea in your head!”

“What?” James said stupidly but she kissed him then and made him sit on the bed.

“Well,” Elizabeth said. “It was more that I wondered what you really thought – I knew if I said I wanted a child – you would agree at once. You have spent our entire marriage never denying me anything. But I knew at once from the look on your face when I was holding him, what you were thinking.”

James looked stunned. “Why did you not say,” he said half maddened.

“Ah well,” Elizabeth said. “It turned out my wondering was rather timely. I wanted to have one last trip with you.” James did not understand that at all – he would not make her stay home just because she may fall with child. Not unless it was a very long trip. Or perhaps if the weather was set to be particularly poor. Or. .. Elizabeth interrupted this train of thought. “I was so sure you would realise on the way here,” she said. “As if I would get seasick.”

 

It took some time for that to sink in. “Elizabeth?” he said in shock turning to stare at her.

Elizabeth took hold of his hand and pressed it to her stomach and it was only when he felt the slight swell there under her wrap and nightgown that her words truly sank ink. James stared at her. “I wasn’t truly sure until we were at sea,” she admitted. “I did not want you to worry.”

“Of course I am going to worry,” James said. “Elizabeth – I would never have taken you to sea if I had known.”

“I know,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I have always meant it you know – how much I miss you. I could not bear the thought of missing my last chance to sail with you – you will be Admiral I am sure by the time the child is here and weaned. And there is no reason why I shouldn’t have sailed. It is not as if you put me to work. I spend half my days aboard reading in your bed. It is much more restful than being at home and being social.”

“I bedded you every night,” James said appalled at himself.

“Pfft,” Elizabeth said. “I was quite through in my one lesson with the midwife all those years ago. That’s quite allowed.”

James wanted to argue but she pulled him close “Please don’t fuss James.” Then she seemed to think better of such a request. “Not too much, just think that I have saved you three months of waiting and wondering – in half a year you will be a father.”

James pulled her into his arms struck by that notion. Half a year was no time at all. “And you will be the most wonderful mother,” he said sincerely.

“Ha,” she said. “I think I will muddle through.” Elizabeth held him close. “I hope it was worth waiting ten years for,” she said suddenly a little shy.

“For you,” James said sincerely, “I would have waited my whole life and called it worthwhile Elizabeth.” He was shocked when that brought tears to her eyes but he pulled her close.

"Well I wouldn't," Elizabeth said cheekily. "I cannot imagine my life without you - I shall just be grateful you did not make me wait." James flushed relieved - she knew it still concerned him sometimes, the circumstances of their marriage. But he was beyond happy and the slightest sign Elizabeth was the same was all he needed to make his life complete. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic on lj back in 2007 and have always said one day I would go back and finish it and now I have.  
> Thank you to everyone who has commented but especially to sleepylotus who has been beyond encouraging of this fic (and the others) and is a marvellous provider of plotbunnies!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - any comments and feedback are very much appreciated!


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